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E. De LANCEY PIERSON 



NEW YORK. 

THE NATIONAL BOOK COMPANY, 
3, 4, 5 and 6 Mission Place. 


The Secret 


OF 


The Marionettes. 


/i\ 


De mnety 
epiERgO/M 


NO. 1. 



1 / ' < 


E, De L-AHSEY 

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second-class matter. 





THE SECRET 
OF THE MARIONETTES 


k 

i 


THE SECRET 


OF THE MARIONETTES 


A ROMANCE 


BY 

ERNEST DE LANCEY PIERSON 

AUTHOR OF 



£ 


“A SLAVE OF CIRCUMSTANCES,” “THE BLACK BALL,” “THE 
SHADOW OF THE BARS,” “A VAGABOND’S HONOR,” 

“A BARGAIN IN SOULS,” ETC. 


lA 




NEW YORK 


NATIONAL BOOK COMPANY 

3, 4, 5 & 6 MISSION PLACE 







THE SECRET OP THE MARIOtfflETTES. 


CHAPTER L 

THE MAGIC OP A PACE. 

It was absinthe hour on the Boulevard St. Michel. 
The human tide flowed noisily past the cafes where 
men and women were grouped about little wine- 
tables sipping ruby and opalescent liquids from 
bright glasses. The rays of the sun striking across 
the houses opposite, seemed to gild the flushed and 
animated faces of this convivial crowd and sent 
flashes of red and green from the gem-like goblets 
before them. 

The Parisian gommeux in plum and slate-colored 
coats faced with silk, and pot hats tilted back on 


6 THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 


their foreheads, caressed their goatees, with white 
and nervous hands as they ogled the weary-looking 
working girls stumbling along over the asphalt. 

A man in a dirty blouse was trying to rake out, 
with a hooked stick, a bread crust that lay under 
the tables, to the obvious discomfort of a young lady 
with a hectic complexion, whose lavender skirts 
almost overflowed her neighbor’s lap. The shrill 
laughter of the women, the clatter of glasses banged 
on the table, the screams of “Ga^on!” in every 
key, and the trampling sound of feet on the pave- 
ment filled the scene with indescribable confusion. 
But the noise was a good-natured one. From the 
trotting of the Tramway horses to the howl of the 
newspaper venders, and the explosive laughter of 
the drinkers, everything was pitched in a jubilant 
key. It was a happy crowd that felt the joy of 
living, and seemed constrained to give utterance to 
their delight in the noisiest way possible. 

Before the Cafe Mirabeau a crowd of art students 
had paused in hesitation. They were a shabby lot, 
with broken shoes and seedy and dusty clothes, 
with the exception of a tall young man with a 
hooked nose and fresh rosy face, who was directing 
a waiter to clean off one of the tables littered with 
the debris of a recent lunch. His shoes were 
varnished, and the gray suit he wore, while far from 
new, fitted his sturdy figure smoothly. He even 


THE SECRET OF TEE MARION NETTES. 7 

wore a silk hat while the others bore the inevitable 
beret pulled down over their eyes, or jammed not 
unpicturesquely on the back of the head. 

“You will dine with us?” asked the young man 
who was directing matters and who seemed to be 
their leader, addressing one of the students who 
lingered on the outskirts of the dingy crowd in a 
hesitating way. “ Come, now, plant yourself down 
there—” pointing to a seat. “You can’t say you 
are not hungry, for I saw you eyeing the model to- 
day in the most cannibalistic way. We are going 
to have a little supper and then take in the ThMtre 
Montparnasse. Sit down. It’s my treat ! ” 

The young man addressed started almost guiltily. 

“ No, thank you, Felton. I really — fact is I’ve got 
an engagement to dine with a friend. Some other 
time I shall be most happy.” But he eyed the 
platter of bread that the waiter was setting on the 
table, with. a yearning look in his dark eyes and 
then turned his head away with something like a 
sigh. 

“Oh, let him go,” said one of the crowd, a fat 
little Frenchman with a black spike of hair on 
his chin. “It’s an affair with a woman I dare say. 
Don’t let the soup get cold,” crowding forward and 
taking his seat at the table. “Allons, mes en- 
fants, & table,” tucking the napkin under his chin 
while the others hastened to follow his example. 


-r.-; yH 




8 THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 

“ Let these lovers go, they give me indigestion to 
look at them.” 

“ Well, I am sorry you won’t join us,” said Felton, 
to the sad-eyed young man. “ Another day, eh? I 
never like to interfere in affairs of the heart,” and 
with a laugh and a nod he sat down at the table 
where his companions were already eating their 
soup noisily, while the student who would not 
join them strolled away down the Boulevard in the 
direction of the Seine. His engagement could not 
have been a pressing one, for he idled along as if he 
had the whole evening before him, pausing now and 
then to read the seductive menus posted in the 
windows of the cheap restaurants, then, resuming 
his walk, with a sigh, down the crowded thorough- 
fare. 

In truth, he had eaten nothing but bread, and very 
poor bread at that, for three whole days, and his 
engagement to dine with a friend was a beautiful 
myth. 

The youngest son of a Methodist minister with a 
large family living in the wilds of Michigan, he had 
saved a few hundred dollars by teaching school and 
came to Paris to study art. Remittances were far 
from frequent and hardly sufficed to pay his rent. 
How and then he received an order for a sign from 
a cabaret-keeper in the suburbs, but he lived mostly 
on the bread that was given to students of the 


■ '• 


THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 9 

Beaux-Arts to use as erasers for their charcoal 
drawings. 

No one who has not been in a similar predicament 
could understand what a struggle it cost Roland 
Dane to refuse Felton’s dinner. His temperament 
was really poetic, but now that he had fallen in 
evil times his dream invariably took a gastronomic 
course. He thought more of steaming joints than 
sonnets, and more of ragouts than rhymes. 

There are times when a plate of mush is a more 
imposing sight than sunsets on Mont Blanc, and 
when a boiled cabbage bears a more subtle perfume 
than a Gloire de Dijon rose. 

He often wondered himself if he would ever expe- 
rience again that delightful feeling, such as even 
Christianity can never give, of being well fed — of 
having enough to eat. As he walked down the street 
with drooping head, his eyes thoughtfully bent on 
the ground, you might have imagined him a strug- 
gling genius mapping out some masterpiece for the 
future in art or letters. But, to tell the truth, he 
was thinking of nothing of the kind. He was think- 
ing of a dinner he had eaten a month ago at the 
u Bouillon Duval,” where he had consumed a huge 
steak and a larger ragout, and he was wondering 
how he should feel if he was able to sit down to 
such a meal every day. 

If his mouth trembled, it was not for the memory 


10 THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 

of some old love dream, but because his mouth 
watered and the sigh in his heart just then was not 
for a lost face but a square meal. This is not ro- 
mantic, and it rather spoils any poetical fancies 
we may have regarding the hero ; but it is the cold 
truth, and with that we shall deal in this history of 
reality. 

As the young man reached the parapet overlook- 
ing the river, a shiver passed over him. It was not 
so much because the evening was sharp and chill, but 
the gust of wind had blown to his nostrils the appetiz- 
ing smell of roasted chestnuts cooking on the corner 
over a brazier. It was cruel of fate to throw such 
things in his way, so he turned his head and tried to 
think of other things, but that persistent and mad- 
dening odor followed him. He had two sous in his 
pocket which he had intended saving for breakfast, 
meaning to-night to go to bed early, after filling 
himself up with the sickening Paris water to destroy 
his hunger ; but that smell of roasting proved too 
strong to resist, and before he knew it he had pressed 
his copper into the dirty palm of the stout Gascon 
on the corner who was stirring his chestnuts with a 
critical eye. He received a small measure full and 
thrust them into his empty pocket so that he might 
warm his hands. Chestnuts meant heat and food, 
and he needed both ; on the morrow he might borrow 
a crust of his landlord or even eat the remainder of 


— 


TEE SECRET OF TEE MARIONNETTES. 11 



“ The most doleful figure of them all.” 























12 THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 

his candle-end. He would not think of the future 
now, but be happy over the present. 

He crossed the bridge with the hurrying crowd, 
the most doleful figure of them all, and sat down on 
a bench by the fountain in front of the Chatelet 
Theatre. There were many other poor people there 
like him, workmen out of a job, and peasants dozing 
off the effects of strange Parisian potations, with 
their red faces drooping down on the bosom of 
their soiled blouses. 

He felt very happy and light-hearted as he munched 
his chestnuts daintily with little nibbles so as to 
make them last a long while, and leisurely sur- 
veyed the crowd hurrying along the brilliant Bou- 
levard. The opportunity was good for any one who 
cared to study this shabby young man on the bench. 
He was twenty-five, but he looked fully ten years 
older, with his pale, worn face, and dark eyes set in 
deep hollows that gave him a wild and uncanny 
look. His curling black hair pushed negligently 
back from a yellow white forehead was already 
streaked with gray, his hands thin and blue-veined 
with long fingers would have served him admirably 
had he been a pianist. He might have turned his 
face to profit had he cared to degrade himself, for 
money. More than once an elegant lady in the Bois 
had sent her footman after him to offer him a seat 
in her carriage, but he had not come to that just 


THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 13 

yet. He might come to it soon unless matters 
mended, or to the river, and he was not sure which 
he should prefer. 

It was beginning to darken, but with the dis- 
appearance of the daylight the lights of the night 
flashed forth, framing in the sombre streets with 
strings of brilliants. Paris was donning her flash- 
ing mantle for the nightly fete , and had assumed her 
necklace of fire. It was light as day in the square 
where Ponlad was seated, and cold, too, for all 
the semblance of fire, red and white and green, on 
either hand. 

He had finished his last chestnut, not without a 
sigh, and turned toward the river to walk back home 
to his lodgings. As he crossed the Plaza a cab 
flashed by him. A white face at the window was 
seen for a moment. He paused and leaned against 
a lamp-post, feeling a sudden dizziness come over him. 
But his eyes followed the cab as it drew up in front 
of the Opera Comique just opposite. 

Why did the sight of that face move him ? what 
memory did it awaken? What had a starving 
student to do with people who rode in private 
carriages ? Anyway, Poland crossed the street and 
stood in the shadow of one of the columns that up- 
held a group of multi-colored lamps, ana peered 
out as the carriage door was opened by a street 
gamin. 




14 THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 

The first to descend was a young man, in full 
evening dress who leaped lightly to the sidewalk. 
He resembled a new-born mouse with his pink, 
pointed little face, and tiny weak eyes, and gray 
yellow hair. But Roland was not looking at this 
youth at all ; he was interested in the lady whose 
foot was on the step, and without knowing it he 
pressed forward to catch a full glimpse of her face. 
There was nothing remarkable about this young 
woman to distinguish her above the other ladies 
who were alighting before the door of the Opera 
House, but Roland thought differently. A quiver 
ran over him as his eyes fell on the dainty, slender 
figure, supple as a Toledo blade in its white silken 
sheath. She would have been considered beautiful 
but for a peevish expression about her mouth, and 
her black eyes were imperious even to insolence. 
The student, however, found no fault in those cold 
and passionless features. They had figured in many 
of his dreams for the past five years, and now at last 
he was comforted by the substance instead of the 
shadow. His weariness and despair seemed to fall 
from him like a garment. The sight of her carried 
him back to gladder, brighter days. 

“Why don’t you wait and give me your arm, 
Lester?” said the young lady, irritably addressing 
her escort. “Where are you rushing to now ?” 

“ I — I was going to get the tickets,” stammered 


THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 15 


the young man with the pink face. “ Here, fellow, 
stand out of the way and let this lady pass. Allez 
vous” he added in bad French, reaching out his 
hand to push Roland away. There was an expres- 
sion in the student’s eyes, however, that caused him 
to draw back his hand. 

“ Oh ! man that opened the carriage, I suppose, 
waiting to be tipped: Voila ! ” holding out a franc 
in his palm. Roland looked at the young man and 
then at the coin. In a moment he had sent it spin- 
ning into the gutter. 

“ Are you coming ? ” called out the lady angrily, 
for her escort was hesitating whether he should 
avenge the insult or not. “ What are you gabbling 
with that person for ? ” stamping her foot. 

Lester, as he had been called, cast a withering 
glance at Roland, and uttering incoherent threats gave 
the lady his arm and they passed into the theatre. 

Roland leaned against the column faintly as they 
disappeared. A flood of memories filled his brain 
and set his heart beating tremulously. 

He was no longer standing in a Parisian street. 
The air grew warm as he dreamed. There was a 
perfume of clover in the breeze and the piping of 
innumerable birds. He was walking along the 
road from his little school-house, through the hot 
sun, carrying a great armful of books, his own and 
those of his favorite pupil, who walked by his side. 





. 


—'.OS 


16 THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 

She was a child then, but the face he had just 
seen under the glare of the theatre lamps was the 
same. It had lost the artless grace of girlhood, had 
grown colder and more imperious, but it was the 
same. He remembered the day before she had 
started for Europe, and they were idling in the 
orchard. He had spoken of his love for her and 
how she had laughed — in that cruel way that seemed 
to sear his heart. They were children, she said, she 
could promise nothing. In five years he would have 
made a place for himself and they might talk more 
seriously. Now she could make no promise. Her 
father had a contempt for poor men. He had been 
poor himself and knew what it was to suffer. He 
wanted Roland to pass through the same experience. 
He had even forbidden him to speak to Rita. This 
was the way Mr. Carlton called getting square with 
the world that had treated him so badly. On that 
day when the young people parted, she had not been 
wholly unkind, she had held out some hope for the 
future. But he must be either famous or rich when 
they met again. Then, if her mind had not changed, 
they would talk seriously. He was compelled to be 
contented with that, and as there seemed to be little 
chance of his making a fortune he made a bold bid 
for fame. He came to Paris, and for four years had 
only lived for his work. Many a day when the 
master had praised his drawings, he had come home 


THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 17 


delirious with excitement, though he had eaten 
nothing perhaps since the night before. He seemed 
to be nearing his goal — the beautiful prize was in 
view. Ah ! she was worth working and waiting 
for ! Yet in all these years he had only heard from 
her once — a few affectionate lines that he had long 
ago committed to memory, and which formed the 
basis of many a dream. He had almost completed 
a gigantic statue of “ Hope,” which had been pro- 
nounced a marvellous piece of sculpture by the great 
artists he had cajoled into visiting his studio. He 
intended sending it to the salon. Then some rich 
financier would buy it, and his future would be 
assured. He could take a chateau in the suburbs of 
Paris and live the life of an elegant recluse. He 
^ would 

Something flashed at his feet just then. He paused 
in the midst of his musings and stooped and picked 
it up. It was a silver card-case, elaborately chased, 
with the monogram R. C. embossed on the cover. 
He opened it and took out one of the cards on 
which he read 

Rita Carlton, 

16 Rue des Acacias, 

Montmorency. 

He snapped the lid of the case and thrust it in his 
pocket. “ Enough of doubt and dreaming,” he said, 

turning away. “I have found her now. I shall 
2 


18 THE SECRET OF THE MARION NETTES. 

learn from her own lips if my hopes have any foun- 
dation.” 

And he crossed the bridge, moodily planning how 
he might see his old sweetheart face to face again. 
His unexpected meeting with her in the crowded 
street seemed an omen of hope. He could not know 
that the sight of her face had revived a tender 
memory that was better forgotten — that his love for 
her was to lead him near to a tragic death ! 


THE SECRET OF THE MARIONHETTES. 19 


CHAPTER II. 

THE OLD GUIG^OL. 

The Rue des Hoceurs is a melancholy little alley, 
lined with grim old houses so high that even in mid- 
day the sunlight seldom penetrates, as if loath to 
display the grimy windows and battered walls that 
are half hidden by charitable shadows. 

It was in this street that Roland had lodged for 
several years past, but he had never entered it be- 
fore in such a cheerful mood as to-night. 

At the far end of the Rue des Noceurs, in front 
of a stone building whose walls still displayed the 
ravages of Prussian cannon, hung a red lantern 
bearing the sign “ Logements ” in white letters. 

Roland passed under it, and opening the door, 
mounted the stairs. They were damp and greasy, 
and almost as perpendicular as a ladder; but he 
tripped up them as gaily to-night as if they were the 
velvet-covered staircase of President Carnot, and 
he was on his way to get a portfolio. 

On the landing he almost collided with a woman 
and a pitcher. He stopped humming and looked up. 

u Ah, Marie, c’est vous” his face lighting up. 




20 THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 

They were standing under a crazy lamp fastened 
to a bracket on the wall. The young woman he 
addressed was slight and fresh-faced, with splendid 
dark eyes that were luminous even in the uncer- 
tain light. She carried her head on one side as if 
weighted down by the mass of soft brown hair 
that just now was in a state of picturesque dis- 
order. Her cheap print dress, dark blue in color 
and badly made, did not wholly conceal the strong 
lithe form beneath. 

She cast a curious, half suspicious glance at the 
young man as he stood there. 

“ Well, my friend, you seem very merry to-night. 
Have you been to the students’ ball ? ” 

“ Hardly,” with a laugh ; “ one does not usually 
attend a fete in this kind of a costume. Did you 
ever see a croque-mort (undertaker) at a wedding 
feast ? ” 

“ Then you must have met some of your friends 
from America,” a little jealously, “ for I have never 
seen you so light-hearted before,” still staring at him 
steadily. 

“Ho, I have met no one,” he said evasively. 

“ Then why so jubilant ? ” persistently. 

“ Ma foi ! Can’t a man be gay once in a while ? I 
have been miserable long enough. Surely, Marie, 
you don’t object to my trying to be happy.” 

“ Oh, no, not at all, only it was so unusual,” she 


THE SECRET OF THE MARION NETTES. 


21 


hastened to say. “ I only wanted to know the rea- 
son why you were merry. I had hoped that per- 
haps some one had ordered a picture or that a dealer 
had paid you a visit.” 

“ No such good luck,” he responded. “ I might 
as well be dead for all the dealers bother me. No 
indeed, nothing so substantial has appeared to 
brighten my horizon. I just received a fresh invoice 
of dreams to-night of the most golden description, 
and I am trying to fancy that they will come true. 
That’s all, Marie. ” 

She looked at him wistfully and sighed, thinking 
that he was keeping something from her. 

“ Well, are you hungry ? ” she said not wishing to 
press him further. 

“ That’s a nice question to ask,” he laughed, “ con- 
sidering that I never have enough to eat. I have 
dined, but not sumptuously, on two sous worth of 
chestnuts.” 

“Well, the Plre is upstairs just sitting down to 
his soup. If you care to sit down with him we 
shall be glad to have you.” 

“ But you? ” as she was turning away. 

“ Oh, I shall be back in a few moments. I have 
to run to the cremerie to get some milk before it 
closes.” 

She nodded brightly, and flitted down the stairs 
singing. 


22 the secret of the marionnettes. 

Roland turned away with a sigh and continued 
his ascent. 

“ Now why couldn’t I have fallen in love with 
this poor girl who adores me, instead of a boyhood’s 
memory ? Ah me, through what wayward paths a 
man’s heart leads him. It will be hard for us both 
when she knows the truth — very hard. But then 
I need not tell her anything to-night. There will be 
plenty of time, and,” with a sigh, “ perhaps there 
will be no need to say anything.” 

He had reached the second landing now. He 
paused before a blackened door with a brass plate 
on the panel, and without stopping to knock, pushed 
it open and entered. 

The room was large, but its dimensions were lost 
in gloom, as the only light was a sputtering candle 
burning on a table, in the centre, littered with 
bottles and plates. At this table two men were 
seated, preparing to discuss a bowl of soup. The 
elder of the two, who was eating with a splashing 
noise, wore a dirty night-cap that rested on the 
back of his bald and glistening head. His face, 
seamed and wrinkled, looked ghastly and grotesque 
in the pale light of the flickering candle. His eyes, 
-red rimmed, and restless, were constantly rolling, and 
his nose, hooked and red, overshadowed a weak and 
tremulous mouth. This was Pere Bouleau, who for 
ten years had amused the children in the Champs 


— — — — — — — — -= 


THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES . 23 

Elys6es, where his puppet theatre was one of the 
sights of Paris. Since he had lost most of his 
memory and grown paralytic he had retired from 
the amusement world to conduct the lodging-house 
in the Rue des Noceurs. The old theatre, with its 
faded hangings and battered scenes, could be seen 
in the background of the room, and the old man 
often amused himself with this great toy that had 
won him such renown among the children in the 
old days. He wrote plays of the most lurid de- 
scription, which were performed for the edification 
of his few friends and neighbors. His companion, 
Monsieur Felix, as he was called, kept a charcuterie 
shop in the neighborhood, at the sign of the Golden 
Pig. He was fat and fresh-looking, with porcine 
features which showed his fondness for patronizing 
his own sausage. Monsieur Felix dressed elabo- 
rately, displaying a great deal of imitation jewelry, 
and passed for a gay Lothario in the quarter, much 
sought after by the young women of the neighbor- 
hood who had an eye on the chances of becoming 
part owner in the sausage shop. But Monsieur 
Felix did not wear his heart upon his sleeve for 
working girls to peck at, and he had really never 
fallen seriously in love until he met Marie Bouleau, 
who, while treating him respectfully as her father’s 
friend, detested him cordially. 

As Roland entered, Monsieur Felix got up and 




24 THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 

offered him a chair, but his expression was far from 
friendly. Pere Bouleau, however, continued to eat 
his soup, with his face half hidden by the plate. 

“ P&re Bouleau, Pere Bouleau, you have a visitor,” 
cried the younger man in a shrill voice. 

“Who is it? Who is it?” looking up with his 
mouth full of soup. “Ah, c'est vous , Monsieur 
Poland. Pardon me if I do not rise, but my old 
bones feel rusty to-day and the cold weather sets 
them creaking. Draw up your chair and try a 
plate of this soup ; I believe there is enough to go 
round. That jade Marie sticks up her nose at it, 
but all the same I find it very good. Try some ; ” and 
he pushed the tureen towards the centre of the 
table and continued to eat greedily from his own plate. 

Roland did not wait to be invited twice, but 
drawing up a chair helped himself liberally, and 
though the soup was watery and greasy, he was too 
hungry to find fault, and devoured it eagerly. 

“ I knew you’d like it,” said this horrible old man, 
watching Roland with his restless eyes. “But 
nothing pleases that faineante Marie. I tell her 
if she don’t like the board here she had better try 
the Grand Hotel. There are many women who can 
afford to live there who have not half her good 
looks. What is the use of a woman being pretty if 
she can’t turn it to account. Why, if I was a 


woman- 


55 


THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 25 


“ Hush,” said Roland interrupting him cautiously. 
“ You forget that mademoiselle is an honest girl.” 

“ Honest. Oui , ma foi. But it is not enough 
for one to be honest in this world ; one must be some- 
thing more. Honesty will not fill the pot, and one 
cannot make soup out of virtue. She don’t earn a 
cabbage head in a week, and grumbles because we 
don’t have meat and mushrooms every day. Why 
don’t she earn these luxuries if she needs ’em so 
badly — honestly if possibly, if not the other way.” 

The old man spoke with vehemence, his pale face 
gradually assuming a rosy tint as he grew more 
excited. Roland, hearing him talk in this manner, 
felt a shudder of disgust, thinking what a miserable 
life hers must be alone with this horrible creature. 

“ I hear,” said the old man who had now finished 
his soup and had pushed his plate away, “that 
this hypnotism is a great thing — that Dr. Charcot 
makes a few passes over your face and then you 
will believe anything he tells you. He hands you 
a candle and tells you that that it is pdte de foie gras 
and you eat it and find it just as good as the real 
thing. What a blessing hypnotism would be to 
fathers with proud children like mine. I shall go 
up to Salpetriere some day and get the good doctor 
to teach me the art, and then I shall hypnotize 
Marie. It would be a great saving — a great saving,” 
wagging his head. “ What an inestimable boon to 



26 the secret of the marionnettes . 

poor fathers.” He bowed his head on his breast and 
continued to mumble to himself and smile for some 
moments. 

“P&re Bouleau!” called Monsieur Felix, rousing 
him out of his reverie. 

“ Well, what is it?” irritably. 

“ Talking about Madamoiselle Marie — you have 
not told the American about our marriage ; ” and he 
looked at Roland with a malicious twinkle in his 
eyes, 

“ What’s that? ” asked Roland, dropping his spoon 
noisily on his plate. 

“ Oh, then you haven’t heard the news,” said P&re 
Bouleau, rubbing his hands softly together. “ Mon- 
sieur Felix has honored me this evening by asking 
for the hand of my daughter in marriage. — Well 
what astonishes you ? ” — as Roland started with an 
exclamation of dismay. “Is there anything won- 
derful in that? You must know that for some 
months back monsieur has had his eyes on the 
young baggage.” 

Roland was surprised himself that this intelli- 
gence gave him such a shock, but conscious that the 
eyes of the young pork butcher were bent upon him 
he tried to affect an air of nonchalance. 

“ And has she consented ? ” he asked carelessly. 

“ No, she has not,” said a voice behind them. It 
was Marie who had entered silently and was regard- 


— — — — - - - — 


THE SECRET OF THE MARIQNNETTES. 27 

in g the two with troubled eyes. “ And she never 
will.” 

Monsieur Felix swore under his breath, but Pere 
Bouleau smiled in a savage way. 

“ Oh, your consent will follow in due time, ma 
belle , and for the present we can dispense with it, 
can we not, Monsieur Felix?” winking at the young 
man. The latter only scowled and drummed on the 
table with his fat and jeweled fingers. 

“ Beggars should not be choosers,” snarled the 
old man, glaring at her ominously. “ It is not every 
man in the position of Monsieur Felix who is will- 
ing to accept a portionless girl, and one who is lazy. 
It is very good of him to make the offer, and if you 
were in your right senses, you would fall down on 
your knees and bless him for his kindness. You 
can’t afford to be independent, young woman, so you 
will prepare yourself to appear before Monsieur le 
Maire in two weeks’ time.” 

“ I shall not do anything of the kind,” said the 
daughter sullenly. “ There is no law to compel a 
woman to marry a man she detests. I would 
as leave marry one of the butter firkins at The 
Golden Pig, as its proprieter \ ” and she flung her- 
self out of the room before her father had a chance 
to reply to this outburst. 

“There’s a nice respectful sort of a daughter,” 
said P^re Bouleau angrily. “But don’t you mind 


— 



28 the secret of the marionnettes. 

what she says, Monsieur Felix. I’ll find a way to 
break her proud spirit yet, you see if I don’t. I 
know how to manage these women. I’m used to 
’em,” and he disclosed his broken yellow teeth in a 
savage grin. 

“ You told me she would agree to the marriage 
with eagerness,” grumbled Felix. 

“ So she will ; but your offer was sudden. You took 
her by surprise, and you know how women are. 
They don’t want a man to have an easy victory — 
want to hold back and be coy. You go on with 
your preparations and I swear to you that the bride 
will be ready when the happy day dawns.” 

“Well, if you deceive me and put me to all the 
unnecessary expense there will be trouble,” growled 
the young man, still unmollified. “Perhaps she 
don’t think I am good enough for her. She has a 
fondness for foreigners perhaps,” casting a ven- 
omous glance at Roland who twisted uneasily in 
his chair. 

“ Why, you don’t refer to the young American, do 
you ? ” asked the P&re with a laugh. “ Bless you, 
he don’t have eyes for poor girls ; he’s flying for 
something higher. You needn’t try and scent a 
rival in him, you’ll have to look elsewhere.” 

“ Well, I may be wrong, but I have kept my eyes 
open. I have watched them. Perhaps it is not 


THE SECRET OF THE MARION NETTES. 29 

marriage the monsieur wishes to offer to Marie, but 
something else.” 

A stinging slap on the face cut short his sentence. 
It was Roland who had done it, and who now stood 
towering over him with a flushed face and trem- 
ulous lips. 

Bouleau rose and rushed between them just as 
Monsieur Felix was preparing to retaliate. 

“ Young fools ! ” cried the father, “ what is there 
to quarrel about? You are to blame, Felix, for in- 
sulting monsieur, who has done nothing. Sit down 
and cool yourself with a glass of wine.” 

“If I spare you, monsieur,” said the young 
butcher, “ it is because I do not wish to offend my 
future wife’s father. But I shall see you again,” 
significantly. 

“Whenever you wish,” said Roland carelessly, 
and nodding good-night to the old man, he went out. 

Half way up the stairs, he felt a tremulous hand 
laid on his arm. It was Marie. 

“ I wanted to see you alone, Monsieur Roland,” 
she said, with a suspicion of a tremor in her voice. 
“ I am only a poor ignorant girl, but I can read you 
well. It was not wine that gave your eyes that 
brightness. You have seen some one to-night — some 
one whom you have loved — who belongs to your 
world of which we know nothing. You are going 
away from us,” clutching his hand. 


30 THE SECBET OF THE MARION NETTES. 

What power of clairvoyance this poor girl had! 
How she loved him ! He was glad his face was in 
the shadow or she would have read his mind easily 
with her piercing brown eyes. He was fond of her 
— and he could not find it in his heart to tell her 
the truth. 

“ You believe in me?” he asked as a preliminary. 

“ As I believe in God,” she murmured. 

This answer disconcerted him, but he nerved him- 
self to answer her. 

“ Then let me tell you this, little Marie, that I 
have spoken to no one to-night, except some students 
from the Beaux Arts. To none whom I love but 
you ! ” 

“ Oh, you make me so happy,” she cried, and be- 
fore he could prevent her she had seized his hand 
and kissed it. 

“ Good-night, Marie,” he said gently. 

“ Good-night,” came like an echo of passion from 
her lips. She stood there silently in the hall, watch- 
ing him until he disappeared up the dark stairs, and 
not until the sound of his footfalls died away did 
she return to her room. 

“ He must have told me the truth,” she murmured 

half sadly to herself. “And yet — and yet ” 

and passed in to her father. 

A bright moonlight flooded the garret in the top 
of the house, which Roland called his studio. It 


THE SECRET OF THE MARION NETTES. 31 

transformed the huge figure of clay, the nude wo- 
man with her uplifted arms, into a statue of silver. 

He paused in the doorway before this monument 
of his hope. It seemed like a radiant vision of his 
future. The face, the very figure, seemed to be that 
of the woman he loved. 

“ Oh, Hope, my beautiful Hope,” he murmured. 
“ Of clay I made you, but the Midas touch of fame 
shall change you to gold. You shall lead me to 
fortune or death.” 

Suddenly the statue swayed, as if reaching out 
its arms towards him. He rushed forward with a 

9 

cry of agony, and clasped it close to him, as it fell, 
crushing him to the floor'. 




32 THE SECRET OF THE MARIOHJSTETTES. 


CHAPTER III. 

BURGLAR OR LOVER? 

Montmorency is like a town in a comic opera. It 
is free of winding lanes where two people some- 
times have trouble in passing each other. The tiny 
gardens are walled in massively, so that only a 
glimpse of a coquettish roof can be seen from 
without. The houses are ridiculous with their 
flutings and crimpings, resembling for all the world 
the great frosted cakes in a baker’s window. 

But it is a cozy corner for all that, where the 
nightingales seem always to be singing, and very 
different from its frivolous neighbor Engheim, where 
there is a casino, and a mineral water that tastes 
of old shoes, and various devices of the devil in 
collaboration with man. 

Up the white road leading from Paris a man was 
toiling this cold November night. They go to bed 
early at Montmorency, and he met no one as he 
entered the town. The full moon glimmered like a 
disk of ice in the heavens, and the stranger shivered 
and buttoned his coat more closely around him. 

Roland Dane had changed in appearance since we 


THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 33 


last saw him. He was dressed in a new suit, his 
beard was trimmed to a point, and he wore a stiff 
hat instead of the old baret. His fortunes seemed to 
have changed from the night he had seen that face 
in the crowd. A dealer had descended on his studio 
the very next day and had paid a hundred francs 
for two old pictures that had been hanging around 
the place as long as Dane could remember. He had 
not felt the ruin of his statue so much, for it could 
be mended, but its fall seemed an omen that his 
hopes would be broken more easily than they were 
built. 

He paused as he crossed the little square where 
the market was held once a week, to flick off some 
of the dust that clung to his varnished boots, and 
then walked on and entered the Rue des Acacias. 

It was an unusually late hour to make a call, in 
fact he had no idea of the hour, as his watch had 
long ago been eaten up, but his visit was more of a 
tour of inspection than anything else. Besides, he 
could not call on Rita in the usual way — he must 
see her alone and by stealth, or an encounter, and 
an unpleasant one, with the father would be in- 
evitable. 

Humber 16, Rue des Acacias, was a clay-colored 
pile that in color and architecture resembled a 
large game pate . It stood bare and ugly on a little 

terrace, where some dead flowers, like hearse plumes, 

B 


34 THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 

nodded in the breeze in the centre of a bare lawn 
of perhaps half an acre. 


No trees shaded the walks, no shrubs broke up 
the uniform smoothness of the garden. It looked 
comfortless as the playground of a charity school. 



“ The beautiful face of Rita outlined in the golden frame of 
lamplight,” 


Roland paused before the iron gateway set in the 
stone wall that surrounded the little lawn, and 
regarded it dubiously. He listened, but heard no 
sound except the twitter of a night bird in the 
bushes behind him. 




THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 35 

As he stood there, however, a light flashed out 
from one of the upper rooms, through the glass 
door opening on the balcony, and he caught sight 
of a woman’s figure and the beautiful face of Rita 
Carlton outlined in a golden frame of lamplight. 

He leaned against the wall and considered. He 
had found her now after all these years. Perhaps 
to-morrow she might be gone, for her father was a 
roving spirit. Should he not try to see her now ? 
He might write, but then she would tell her father, 
and perhaps the next day they would disappear 
and he should never set eyes on her again. He 
wanted to know just how she felt towards him. 
He would not ask for much, only a little hope now 
that he felt the way to fame firm beneath his feet. 
If she had forgotten him, why, well and good ; he 
would go back to his work and try and live her 
memory down. Assuredly it was worth risking 
something to know the truth — now. This doubt 
gave him no rest. 

He scaled the gate and stood in the bare little 
garden. The light glimmered steadily in one of the 
windows now. He could see her head bent over 
some work — she was probably writing. 

It was no trouble to reach the second story. 
There were balconies everywhere, and fretted 
columns that offered an excellent foothold. 

A few moments and he stood before the glass door 


36 THE SECRET OF THE MARI ON N E TTES. 

opening into her room. He paused for a moment 
and looked in. A cheerful log fire lit up the white 
and gold furniture with its primrose satin coverings, 
that were reflected in the polished floor strewn 
with white fur rugs. Rita was all in white too ; some 
fleecy gown that seemed woven of snow covered her 
slender figure as she bent over a secretary, writ- 
ing. Roland shivered as his eyes absorbed this 
scene. It looked so chilly, like the shrine of a frost 
fairy. 

But he had gone too far to retreat. He would see 
her, speak to her, if only for a moment. 

He tried the door — the knob turned — he entered 
the room. 

“ I am Roland Dane,” he said softly, so as not to 
frighten her. 

She did not cry out as many women would 
under such circumstances, her emotions were too 
much under control. She simply wheeled around 
in her chair and stared at him fiercely for a mo- 
ment. She recognized him, there was no doubt 
about that, and yet the sight of his face, that had 
once pleased her so much, stirred no kindly light in 
the depth of her dark eyes. 

“ The Roland Dane I used to know,” she said with 
biting scorn, “ was not in the habit of breaking into 
peoples’ rooms like a burglar when he wished to 
make a call.” 


— 


THE SECRET OF THE MARION NETTES . 37 

His face flushed. He bent his eyes on the ground 
with a sense of shame. “ If I have done this,” he 
said tremulously, “ it was because I saw no alterna- 
tive, and I was afraid I should lose you again before 
we had an explanation. Your father would not 
allow me to enter the house. I had only this chance 
to see you.” 



“ I had only this chance to see you.” 

“ And you did not think how you might com- 
promise me. Ruin my name forever here in this 
little town, where everybody’s business is public 
property. Suppose some one had seen you scaling 
the balconies and entering my room. My father 
might have been wandering about the grounds. He 


; 


38 the secret of the marionnettes. 

would have locked me up in a convent for the rest 
of my life if he dreamed of such a thing ; no expla- 
nation would suffice.” She bit her lips and tapped 
impatiently on the desk with the tip of her pen. 

“ Ah, you have progressed finely since I last saw 
you ; I thought you were a man who would not 
jeopardize a woman’s name — compromise her irre- 
mediably.” 

“ Ah, you misunderstand me,” he cried. “ I know 
I have acted in a selfish way, but there was none 
other open to me. I have dreamed about you all 
these years, and earned the right to speak to you. 
You cannot have forgotten your words that day 
when we parted. In five years, if my mind was un- 
changed, I was to come to you again. Then we could 
talk seriously ; then you would tell me whether I 
might stay or go.” 

“There were conditions,” she said. “Am I to 
believe that you have fulfilled them ? ” and a scornful 
smile played about the corners of her mouth. He 
bowed his head on his breast. 

“ No,” he said feebly ; “ but both will be mine in 
a short time. Oh, Kita,” he cried, leaning forward 
with supplicating hands, “have you forgotten all 
those beautiful days in the past, when we were so 
much to each other ? ” 

“ I have forgotten nothing,” turning her face aside. 
“ I was a silly little girl then — I did not know my 


THE SECBET OF THE MABIONNETTES. 39 


own mind, — you should not have put so much trust 
in the words of a child. Am I to blame if I have 
changed? I am a woman, and to change is our 
privilege.” 

“ But you told me ” he blurted out. 

“ I told you that if you were famous or rich in 
five years, you might come to me and talk the mat- 
ter over seriously. Well, you have won neither 
fame nor fortune ; and even if you had, I can never 
be anything to you.” 

He rose unsteadily to his feet and looked at her 
in a dazed sort of way. 

“ Never can be anything to me ? ” he murmured. 

“ Never ! believe me, I am sorry,” turning her eyes 
away from his pitiful face, “ but I am not to blame 
if I have changed. Some women might keep you 
dangling on for years by a little hope, but I will be 
more kind. The truth cuts to the quick, but it is 
best after all. You are worthy of any woman’s love, 
Roland,” with a shade of tenderness in her voice. 
“ You will find many better suited to your life 
than I am. I am too much of an idler, too fond of 
luxury to make a good artist’s wife.” 

“ All that would come in time,” he said moodily. 

“ Yes, in time ; but while I was waiting for you to 
make a name and a fortune, I should be losing what 
little good looks I had, growing old, and then you 
might die and I be left a lonesome, ugly old maid.” 




40 THE SECBET OF THE MABIONNETTES . 

She shuddered, and drew her chair up closer to 

the fire. 

“ Then you give me no hope ? ” he asked sadly. 

“ I cannot, my poor friend. It would only be 
postponing the day. It would be better that we 
should not meet again — for you, I mean. I must tell 
you the truth, Roland. I am to be married in three 
weeks.” 

He did not scream out or beat his breast. Her 
manner had stunned him from the moment he had 
entered the room, and this last blow fell on a heart 
that had lost its sensibility. 

“ I — I — am glad you told me,” he said brokenly. 
“ I was wrong perhaps to come here. I hope you 
will forgive,” humbly. 

She held her hand towards him and he stooped 
and kissed it. “Well, the damage is done,” she 
said, “but go now. My father is a light sleeper 
and his room is right beneath mine. He may have 
heard your step on the floor. We spoke rather 
loudly.” 

“ If any one suffers from this, I shall be the one,” 
he said firmly. “ Sleep in peace. Your name shall 
not be compromised, no matter how much I may 
have to suffer.” 

“I believe you,” she said, grasping his hand 
warmly. “ Good-bye. May fortune favor you, old 
friend.” 


V- - ‘ " - • • ■ ' ' •■ 


THE SECRET OF THE MA RIONNETTES. 41 

“Yes,” he said vacantly. “But I have less 
incentive to work now than before.” 

“ Work to forget,” leading the way to the door of 
the room. 

“ Yes, forget,” in an absent-minded voice. 

“You had better go out through the house,” she 
said in a low voice. “ It is not so likely that you 
will be seen. One flight down and you’ll see the 
door.” 

He was almost glad to go. Her presence chilled 
him. 

“ Good-night,” she whispered. 

He pressed her hand again and began to descend 
the stairs, while she went back to her room and 
calmly resumed her letter as if nothing unusual had 
happened. 

Roland paused when outside, beneath the shadow 
of the balcony, a moment, and listened. What if 
some peeping Tom had seen him enter her room. 
He felt that she had treated him badly, he was sick 
at heart, but he wished her no ill. Hay, he would 
have suffered anything gladly to have saved her 
good name. 

But he heard nothing except the chirp of some 
hidden bird, or the lowing of a cow in some distant 
stable. He crossed the lawn hastily, keeping in the 
shadow of the wall. Arrived at the gate he leaped 
lightly over it into the white road. 


42 THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 

He looked around him furtively. A shadow he 
had not remembered seeing before near a tree 
attracted his attention. He walked over towards 
it. The shadow had wings and fled before his 
approach. It was a materialized spectre, for he 
heard the click of human heels on the hard road. 
Down the hill darted the shadow with Roland in 
close pursuit. He had not far to run. Scarcely 
three minutes had elapsed since the chase began, 
when the pursued stumbled and fell. Roland fell 
over him, and a struggle took place in the dust that 
played sad havoc with his new clothes. 

Anger and the thought that this creature had 
been spying on him made Roland strong. He soon 
had his opponent choked into submission. 

“You — you’re strangling me,” gurgled the spy, 
trying to free himself from the young man’s grasp. 
“ Can’t you see who I am ? ” 

Roland dragged him into the moonlight. He 
recognized that ghastly face with its hollow eyes. 
It was Picard who had once been in his class at the 
Beaux- Arts, but of late had given up work to devote 
himself more industriously to absinthe. The green 
death, as it was called, had changed a young man 
of twenty-five into a ghastly caricature. 

“Yes, I remember you,” said Roland, flinging 
the wretch from him with a gesture of disgust. 


THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 43 


“ Pity I didn’t strangle you before I knew who you 
were. It would be a relief for everybody,” and his 
eyes glittered as the absinthe drinker stumbled to 
his feet. 


“ I — I meant no harm,” said Picard, tearfully. 



“You — you’re strangling me,” gurgled the spy. 


« It might have all been explained if you had not 
set upon me like a brigand.” 

“ What were you doing in front of that gate ? 
Watching me, you drunken wretch?” advancing 
towards him with threatening fists. 




44 THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 

The absinthe drinker subsided with a snivel in 
the roadside. 

“ Don’t — don’t hurt me,” he murmured. “ I am 
ready to die already from that choking you gave 
me,” feeling his throat carefully and swallowing 
several times to see if it might still be used with 
impunity. 

“Well, go on with your story,” said Roland 
savagely. “ I have no time to waste.” 

“I will hurry, I will hurry,” cried the poor 
wretch. “ I only happened to be passing by, I assure 
you. I was spending the day here with the plre, 
who keeps the cabaret, c a la Reunion des Cochers,’ 
in the square, where the absinthe Pernaud is 
comme pa,” blowing a kiss from his fingers, towards 
the sky. “ I was returning home when I saw you 
coming up the road. I knew you by your walk. 
Ah, said I to myself, here comes the mysterious 
American whom none of us can make out. He has 
some tid-bit hidden here in one of the villas. Let us 
see if I am right,” he paused to cough — a horrible 
sound like a death rattle came from his throat. 
Roland watched him uneasily. This man had 
watched him, had seen him enter her room. He 
would babble to his drunken companions when in 
his cups — the whole city would know about it. She 
would be compromised. Her reputation ruined. 
This woman he had loved, whom he still loved. 


THE SECBET OF THE MABIONNETTES. 45 


He watched the poor wretch coughing with a cruel 
joy, secretly wishing that he might hurst a blood- 
vessel and expire then and there before he had a 
chance to spread his secret over the city. But the 
coughing ceased. Picard wiped some flecks of blood 
from his lips, took a bottle out of his pocket and 
drank from it greedily, rolling his eyes towards the 
stars in a beastly ecstasy. 

“ Continue ! ” cried Roland impatiently. 

The other smacked his lips noisily, stowed the 
bottle away carefully and then continued : 

“Parbleu! there is nothing more to relate. I 
paused. I saw Monsieur a la Romeo mount to the 
second floor. I saw him enter the room, a lady’s, 
as I saw her white figure through the glass as she 
bade him good-night.” 

“ You lie ! You lie ! ” cried Roland, flying again 
at his throat. 

The other, fortified from his potations, shook him 

off. 

“ Impossible. I was unfortunately not drunk at 
the time. I know the place well ; my father pointed 
it out to me only yesterday when we were out eating 
the air. An American monsieur lives there, he said, 
A vieux comte , Carlton by name — and he has a daugh- 
ter who is simply a bon bon of sugar and cream.” 

Roland was in an agony of mind. To find his 
secret in the keeping of this pot-house babbler was 


46 THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 

terrible. What should he do ? What should he do ? 
He was almost tempted to strangle the young wretch 
who so glibly related the story of his exploit. A des- 
perate thought occurred to him. He did not think 
of the consequences to himself; he only thought 
of her, of saving her good name. He forced a smile 
to his lips and seized his companion by the arm. 

“ Listen,” he said. “ It is worth forty francs to 
you if you will forget what you have seen to-night ? ” 
The dull eyes of the absinthe drinker glistened. 
He rubbed his trembling hands .thoughtfully 
together. “ That’s a good price for keeping such a 
small secret,” he said. “ Why, what if a dozen had 
seen you ? I dare say it was worth risking being 

found out. She is a tid-bit, she is. She ” 

“ Shut up, you devil, or I’ll kill you ! ” There was 
a look in the other’s eyes that he did not care to see. 
“ Pshaw, if it were only that, I should not mind,” 
said Roland with a forced laugh. “ You thought I 
entered that house on a mission of love.” 

The absinthe drinker looked at him in astonish- 
ment. 

“ Mods oui, parbleu ! what else could have brought 
you there at such an unholy hour ? ” 

“ Do men only force their way into houses for the 
sake of a pretty face?” said Roland in a hard voice. 

“No. They go to gather more valuable things 
than kisses. Why,” he looked up into the young 


THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 47 

man’s face in a puzzled way again, “you don’t 
mean ” 

“ Yes, w said Roland with a groan. “I was poor, I 
was tempted, I fell. Here is your share,” and he 
turned some money into Picard’s dirty palm. “ It 
was my first crime,” he added guiltily. “ You will 
keep my secret ? ” 

“ I will indeed,” said the other eagerly. “ Ah, you 
are sensible. Love does not coin such gold as this. 
Give me these to kiss and pretty lips may go in 
peace,” and he looked down smilingly at the glitter- 
ing pieces in his palm. “I thought by the way 
you scaled that balcony that you were an expert at 
such business. So it was lucre and not love. Ah, 
you sly dog, now I understand why you have 
lived apart from us all. Well, good-night. I will 
guard your secret, believe me. And now to rout up 
the plre. He shall bring up a bottle of Pernaud 
from the cellar, parbleu , or I shall know the reason 
why. We will drink to our better agreement, Mon- 
sieur Roland — to our better understanding. Good- 
night.” He held out his hand, but as Roland did not 
notice it he laughed and walked rapidly down the 
road. 

Roland, after he had gone away, breathed more 
freely. 

“ I have saved her name,” he said to himself, “ but 
at what a cost ! My happiness is in that wretch’s 


48 THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 


hands. One word from him and my art days would 
be over. I should be sent to Mazas prison. But I 
have saved her — I have saved her ! ” And he walked 
away with misty eyes through the calm silvery 
night and never once looked back. 


THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES . 49 


CHAPTER IY. 

IN THE NAME OF THE LAW. 

Day was breaking when Roland found himself 
again in Paris. He had left the grimy house in the 
Rue des Noceurs a well-dressed, happy-hearted man. 
He had aged ten years when he entered it again, 
ragged, dirty, dishevelled, with a dull pain in his 
heart and sorrow in his eyes. 

He tottered rather than walked the length of the 
desolate alley that divided his lodgings from the 
main thoroughfare, feeling his way along the grimy 
walls of the house with his trembling hands, like a 
blind man, until he stood underneath the red lantern, 
where a faint light still flickered through the morn- 
ing mist. 

He knew that he should not find the door fastened. 
Lodgers were coming and going at all hours of the 
night and morning in the lodging-house of Pere 
Bouleau. Besides, there was nothing to steal, and 
small thieves were the best patrons of the “ Loge- 
ments.” 

His brain was excited, it seemed to be spinning 

around his head like a wheel of fire, but his aching 
4 


50 THE SECBET OF THE MABIONNETTES. 

body craved rest. He hoped to slip up to his room 
without seeing any one. He would not work to-day, 
but spend it in sleep. What was work to him now 
he had lost the only prize he cared to win ? 

His hand was on the knob, but suddenly the door 
opened softly. Marie stood before him, looking very 
pale and hollow-eyed in the misty morning light. 

She started back with a little cry of affright at 
the object before her. 

“ Monsieur Roland, can it really be you?” eyeing 
him dubiously. 

“ Ho,” he said huskily, with a pathetic smile. “ It 
is another man you see before you — the spirit of 
the old. I have left my life, my youth, behind me.” 

“ Come in,” she said, tenderly taking him by the 
arm, and helping him up the steps. “ Something ter- 
rible has happened to you, my poor dear friend. Tour 
clothes are ruined — there is blood on your hands.” 

He looked down and saw that a clot of blood was 
smeared over one of his wrists. He must have 
gained it in that tussle with Picard. 

“ It is my heart that bleeds,” he said sadly. 

She looked at him with tears in her eyes, not 
daring to question him and yet longing to comfort 
him. 

“ Lean on me,” she said. “ I am strong and you 
look ill and faint.” He did so, glad of the support, 
glad to feel any one close to him who loved him. 


THE SECBET OF THE MABIONNETTES. 51 

Sympathy was sweet to him in that hour of his 
bitter trial. 

“ I could not go to sleep because you had not come 
in,” she said a little guiltily. “ Twice I was up to 
your room listening, but you had not returned.” 

“Ah, that was wrong of you, Marie,” yet secretly 
pleased that his welfare had so occupied her thoughts. 
“You will lose all your roses, and then what will 
Monsieur Felix say ? Don’t let my troubles drag you 
down ; it is enough for one to suffer, and I have only 
myself to blame.” 

“If you would only tell me something of your 
trouble, perhaps I might help you,” she said wist- 
fully. “ You may know that I do not ask you from 
idle curiosity.” 

He pressed her little trembling hand warmly in his. 

“I know it — I know it, dear Marie. You have 
been very good to me since I came to Paris, and I 
have made but a sorry return for your sympathy. 
But oh ! I cannot tell you this. It is all over, any- 
way, this dream that I fancied would be realized. 
I will thrust it behind me among the dark 
things of the past, and try to forget it. Ah, if it 
were only easy to forget ! You are not angry with 
me,” as she drew away from him a little, “ because 
I cannot confide in you ; there are some things we 
cannot tell.” 


“ Yes, truly there are things we cannot tell,” she 







52 THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 

said with a sigh, pressing her hand to her heart. 
“ At least a woman cannot.” 

He looked at her quickly, half divining what she 
meant, but her face was turned away. 

They were in front of his door now. He threw it 
open. 

The great statue broken in the middle rested on 
the floor. The gray light of dawn fell upon the 
pathetic uplifted hands of the woman of clay. The 
lips seemed to utter a mute protest to heaven. 

“ I hope you will be better after you have had 
some sleep,” she said kindly. “ I will make some 
bouillon and bring it up to you at noon after I have 
disposed of the pere’s dejeuner. I shall not disturb 
you ? ” 

“ No, Marie,” with a tender sadness in his voice, 
“I have only you now to comfort me.” A mist 
came into his eyes. She drew away from him, feel- 
ing that sudden temptation which comes to some 
women at such a time to put her arms around his 
neck and take his poor tired head on her breast. 
She only pressed his hand warmly in her own. 

“ Sleep and forget,” she murmured. “ Put your 
cares behind you. The night will pass, and a 
brighter day dawn for you.” 

“Never again,” he said sadly. “That statue is 
the emblem of my life. Hope I had, but now it is 


THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 53 

shattered.” He bowed his head and entered the 
room, closing the door softly behind him. 

He flung himself on his bed half-dressed, too 
tired to take off his clothes. When drowsiness 
finally stole over his tired senses, the broken statue 
of Hope assumed strange and fantastic forms. The 
face of the figure became like that of Rita Carlton, 
and as the sunrise gilded the classic features it 
seemed to smile and stretch out its imploring arms 
to him. Now as he looked at it more intently the 
expression faded away and the vapid face of the 
young American leered at him in its place. This in 
time faded too, and he fell asleep to live again his 
troubles in disturbed dreams. 

How long he slept he had no means of knowing, 
but when he opened his eyes it was to find a tall 
man in black standing by his bed while two others 
were stationed on each side of the door. A young 
man was seated before a table with an open blank 
book before him. He was not writing but intently 
examining a fly he had just caught. 

Ronlad thought that he must still be dreaming, 
and turned over in the bed. He opened his eyes 
quickly to assure himself that it was not a fancy, 
and found the four men in the same place, and the 
steely gray eyes of the tall man at his elbow survey- 
ing him slowly and critically. Whatever doubts 
that may have remained in his mind vanished when 


.'y ; xr^ y 


. 


54 THE SECBET OF THE MARION NETTES. 

the man in black said sternly, without moving a 
muscle of his impressive face, 

“ Monsieur, I arrest you in the name of the 
Procureur de la Republique ! ” 


He sat up in bed then, blinking around him as 
the sunlight fell across his eyes. He saw the men 



“ He opened his eyes to find a tall man in black standing 


beside his bed.” 

standing by the door and recognized them as be- 
longing to the secret police. The man by the bed- 
side wore a sash of office, announcing him as one of 
the Commissaires of the Department du Surete. 

“ You arrest me ? ” stammered Roland, glaring at 
the man in black. “ What for ? ” 


THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 55 

“ That you shall learn later. Aristide ! ” turning 
to the young man seated by the table, “ read what 
you have written to the prisoner.” 

“Very well, Inspector Balzare,” said the clerk' 
pocketing his microscope, and he began reading 
from his book in a sing-songy way. 

“ Monsieur Roland Dane, born in America. Pro- 
fession, art student. Unmarried. Age, 25. Has 
resided in Paris four years. Pupil of Carlo Rossi, and 
at present studying art at the Beaux- Arts.” 

“ What do you want to read that all over to me 
for,” said Roland irritably. “I knew that all before.” 

“ Perhaps so,” said the Inspector dryly, “ but it is 
a necessary formality. We will see if your memory 
is good on other points. Monsieur, where were you 
last night ? ” 

“That cursed Picard must have informed the 
police,” Roland murmured to himself. “ I am lost.” 
His face had turned pale — he .felt it. A gleam of 
satisfaction flashed from the terrible eyes of In- 
spector Balzare, who was quick to note the change in 
the young man’s face. 

“ Where were you last night ? ” he repeated in 
his hard, metallic voice. 

Roland looked at him sullenly, feeling the floor 
tremble beneath him. 

<c I refuse to answer,” he said sturdily. “ Find 
out.” 


’ 


56 THE SEC BET OF THE MABIONNETTES. 

The Inspector smiled pleasantly — such a smile. 
Roland thought he preferred his frown. 

“We have found out,” he said. “ Fortunately you 
have been under suspicion for some weeks.” 

“ Under suspicion, what for ? ” asked the young 
man starting up in bed. 

“ Oh, for nothing as serious as this. You frequented 
the company of some of the Russian nihilists here. 
We were simply studying you to find out if you 
belonged to any of their clubs. It appears our 
work has not been wasted. Shall I tell you where 
you were last night.” 

“ Since you know, what is the good of telling 
me ? ” growled the young man ungraciously. 

“ Perhaps you have forgotten it. We will furbish 
up your memory. You were at Montmorency. You 
were shadowed there.” 

Roland turned his head away to hide the terror 
that his face displayed. Everything had been 
discovered. He had been tracked there, had prob- 
ably been seen entering her room by the balcony. 
He had compromised her, had ruined her reputa- 
tion. No, he would save that — he would save her 
if it sent him to prison. He wiped the cold sweat 
from his forehead. Everything depended upon his 
coolness now. The eyes of the Inspector seemed to 
be boring their way through him like augers. His 


THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 57 

face was composed but pale when he turned again 
to the officer. 

“ What was I doing at Montmorency ? ” he asked 
boldly. 

“ That is what we propose to find out,” said the 
Inspector with his imperturbable smile. “ The 
investigation has only begun. You were shadowed 
to Montmorency, but there our man lost sight of 
you for two hours.” 

A deep-drawn sigh of relief came from the young 
man’s lips. Nothing then had been discovered. She 
was safe! she was safe! The officer noticed the 
change in his prisoner’s face and smiled again. 

“ After two hours, our man found track of you 
again. You were returning on foot to Paris. He 
followed you here, turned in his report and went 
to bed. What we want to find out now is, where 
you spent those two hours.” 

“And I sincerely wish you may,” said Roland 
with a yawn, having now recovered in a degree his 
composure. 

“ We shall find out how you spent the time, never 
fear,” said the Inspector. “You left this house 
well dressed in a new suit of clothes. You returned 
in rags. There is blood on your hands now,” flashing 
a glance at the hands Roland had not time to 
thrust under the bedelothes. “During those two 
hours you were in some struggle. No ordinary 


58 THE SEC BET OF THE MABIONNETTES. 


accident could have reduced your clothes to tatters, 
or battered and bruised you as you are now. 
Monsieur Roland, what did you do ? Where were you 
during those two hours ? Tell me ! The law can 
be as lenient as severe. Was it a tavern brawl that 
reduced you to this condition ? Tell me.” 

“ I refuse to answer,” said Roland sullenly. 

“ Ah, that is not well. An innocent man should 
aid the law as far as possible,” said Inspector Bal- 
zare quietly. “If you had nothing to do with this 
crime why are you so silent ? Why do you throw 
obstacles in the way of our investigation? Young 
man, you do not know on what dangerous ground you 
are standing. It is in the shadow of the guillotine.” 

“ The guillotine ! ” murmured Roland with an in- 
voluntary shudder, and before him rose the scene 
of a huddled shivering crowd before the prison of 
La Roquette, singing ribald songs in the early 
morning, and beyond the two black and upright 
posts, and the glittering knife, and the bowed figure 
of Monsieur de Paris. He had been one of that 
crowd years ago, when a man was brought out to 
die, and the screams of the poor wretch whom they 
slid under the knife rang in his ears this morning 
as clearly as that day. 

Inspector Balzare noted the effect of his words 
and continued — 

“Yes, it is an affair for the guillotine, Monsieur. 


... jti 


THE SECBET OF THE MABIONNETTES. 59 

If you have accomplices, save your own head by 
confessing who committed this murder.” 

Roland darted from his bed so quickly that the 
two men by the door stepped forward as if to seize 
him, but Balzare waved them back. 

“ A murder, did you say ? ” cried Roland huskily. 
“ No, it cannot be. You are deceiving me.” He 
looked wildly at the faces around him, but read 
nothing in those wooden and impassive features. 
He sat on the edge of the bed, trying to conquer his 
excitement, yet knowing that he needed all his cool- 
ness now in the hour of danger. 

“ So, then, a murder was committed last night at 
Montmorency,” he said with a nervous laugh, “ and 
since you discovered that I was there, your sus- 
picion naturally rests on me. Does it not occur to 
you that a murder might also have been committed 
in Paris last night, and that I might be guilty of 
that as well. One murder more or less is nothing 
for me.” 

“You do wrong,” said Inspector Balzare, “to jest 
when your head is in peril. We accuse you of 
nothing as yet, but by your levity you are gravely 
compromising your case. A serious crime has been 
committed. Monsieur Edward Carlton, an American, 
residing at No. 16, Rue des Acacias, Montmorency, 
was found brutally murdered early this morning.” 

Roland started, a sudden faintness seized him, 



60 THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 

and he sank back on the pillow. Inspector Balzare 
hastened to get a glass of water from the faucet in 
the corner and made the young man drink a little. 

“ Yes, he was found shockingly mutilated,” he 
continued, never taking his eyes off of Roland’s face. 
“ The work was accomplished with a sharp and 
heavy instrument, we have not been able to deter- 
mine what. The wounds were not deep and Mon- 
sieur Carlton must have expired from fright more 
than anything else. There were no less than twenty 
cuts on the body ; the murderer must have wielded 
his weapon like a madman.” 

“ And I — I am suspected of doing this ? ” was all 
Roland could say, seeing the awful abyss that 
yawned before him. He would have been willing 
to risk everything to save Rita’s good name ; to have 
suffered imprisonment if necessary, but unless he 
proved his innocence clearly, it was the guillotine 
that awaited him. 

“ So far you are only suspected,” said Inspector 
Balzare. tc You were in Montmorency on the night 
of the crime. You were missing two hours about 
the time it must have been committed. You are an 
American, so are they. You went away dressed 
handsomely, and you returned in rags with blood on 
your wrist-bands. Monsieur Roland, did you know 
the Carltons ? ” 

He had recovered his composure. Everything de- 


THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES . 61 

pended now on how he answered the Inspector’s 
question — that devil in black who smiled upon him 
so complacently and whose metallic eyes seemed 
peering into his heart. 

“ I refuse to answer,” he said again almost 
savagely. 

“ Ah, then, the police will again aid your treach- 
erous memory. This,” taking the silver card-case 
Eoland had found in front of the Opera Comique, 
“was found in your coat pocket. It is filled with 
cards of Mademoiselle Carlton, the daughter of the 
dead man. Do you deny now that you know them or 
not,” with a ring of triumph in his voice. “ Come, 
monsieur, help us in this matter. You may be in- 
nocent, and sincerely I hope you are ; for I should 
hate to see such a fine and intellectual head as yours 
go to feed the maw of la m%re guillotine . Tell us 
what you know, for, believe me, sooner or later the 
Parisian police will discover everything, and you 
will only have retarded the day of your liberty if 
you are indeed innocent.” 

Eoland shuddered. He knew only too well the 
persistence of the police in weaving the meshes of 
a net of circumstantial evidence about a man ac- 
cused of a crime. But to confess what he knew 
would be to compromise Eita. Who would believe 
that his visit to her made so surreptitiously was 
entirely innocent. The police, everybody, would 


'W' ' VW'M' 1^; ' ’ v - •• * • v*»y 1 


62 THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 

laugh at such a thing. Let them go on with their 
investigation. They should learn nothing from 
his lips, they must find out everything for them- 
selves. The real murderer would surely be dis- 
covered in time. Silence on his part might save 
her good name. 

“ I refuse to answer,” he said stolidly. 

The Inspector frowned. 

“ Let me tell you, young man, that you are in- 
juring your own cause in keeping silent. You 
strengthen our suspicions that you had something to 
do with this miserable affair. Believe me, the police 
will discover everything : if not to-day, to-morrow. 
We already know this much: that you were 
positively on the grounds of the Carlton villa last 
night ! ” 

The young man started* “ And may I ask how 
you found all this out ? ” 

The Inspector smiled and took up a pair of muddy 
shoes that lay at his feet. “ Certainly,” he said 
politely. “ These shoes, I believe, belong to you?” 

“ They do.” 

“ And you wore them last night ? ” 

“ As they are my only pair, I suppose I did.” 

“ But did you wear these particular shoes ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“That is enough,” said the Inspector trium- 
phantly. “ Your lips refused to answer, but these 


THE SECRET OF THE MARIONETTES. 63 

shoes have answered quite as satisfactorily, for the 
purposes of the police.” 

“I — I don’t understand,” stammered Roland, 
fearing that in some way he had compromised him- 
self to this Nemesis in black, yet puzzled to know 
just how. 

“I will explain,” said Inspector Balzare glibly, 
handling the shoes as if they were made of glass. 
“You will then understand how useless it is to 
keep anything back from the police. These shoes 
have trodden the paths of the Carlton villa ; of that 
we are sure. How do we know it? Because those 
paths were made with Rosendale cement, an 
American product not at all used in any other 
grounds in Montmorency. Some of this cement 
was discovered on the soles of these shoes, showing 
that you must have been there last night.” 

The young man attempted to speak, but the 
Inspector waved his hand for silence and con- 
tinued, — 

“ It is useless for you to deny that you were not 
there. We are sure of it.” 

“ What, on such evidence ! Is it not possible that 
I could have collected this from the road when the 
paths were being made?” 

“ Possible, but not probable ; moreover, the in- 
dubitable proof that you were there is yet to come. 
We found on the heel of one of these shoes a portion 


64 THE SECBET OF THE MABIONNETTES. 


of a letter written by Monsieur Carlton and recog- 
nized by bis daughter as the portion of one he had 
written and torn up yesterday. Now do you still 
persist in saying that you were not on the grounds 
of No. 16 Rue des Acacias last night?” 

For only answer Roland covered his face with 
his hands and groaned. 

“Remember,” said the Inspector not unkindly, 
“ that so far we accuse you of nothing. We have 
proved that you were on these grounds last night, 
at or about the time the murder was committed. 
Your business there may have been wholly innocent. 
We should be glad to be sure that it really was. 
If so, you will not hesitate to tell us. Come, now, 
you know more about this terrible affair, perhaps, 
than you care to say. Why were you there last 
night? Was it not to call upon a certain little 
lady?” flashing his steely eyes like poniards at the 
unfortunate young man. 

Roland looked at him blankly and shivered. 

“ No — no,” he almost screamed. “ I tell you no. 
You say I was there; very well, And out what I was 
there for,” and he relapsed into sullen silence again. 

“ Hum,” growled the Inspector, who had hoped 
for a different answer. “ Well, since you will not 
help us — since you will not try and help yourself, the 
police must continue the investigation, and, believe 
me, they will find out everything ! — everything ! ” 


THE SECBET OF THE MABIONNETTES . 65 


shaking his finger menacingly at Roland. “ And 
that before a week is out.” 

The young man shuddered, knowing how un- 
erring was the scent of the Paris police on the trail 
of crime; how few ever escaped the meshes of 
their net. 

“ The investigation is over for the present,” said 
Inspector Balzare. “ Dress yourself, young man. 
You will accompany me to the bureau of Goron, 
Chief of the Secret Police. Aristide,” turning to 
the young man at the table, “ you have secured all 
the young man’s papers that I handed to you?” 

“ Inspector, it is done,” said Aristide, again slip- 
ping his microscope out of sight. “I have the 
papers in my portfolio.” 

“ Good,” said Balzare laconically. “ You may take 
charge of these shoes as well ; ” handing over the 
muddy boots that Roland had worn the night 
before. 

“ You don’t expect me to go barefoot to the 
bureau, do you?” asked the young man, as he 
paused in the operation of tying his cravat. 

“Not at all,” said the Inspector politely. “You 
have your slippers there. They are just the things 
to wear in the — hem! — house. You will not be 
going out much in the street.” 

Roland turned pale. 

“ True,” he said simply. 


5 




66 THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 

u Now if we are all ready, we will descend to the 
cab,’ 5 said Inspector Balzare cheerfully, casting 
his eyes around the room to see if he had forgotten 
anything. “ You are ready ? ” to Roland. 

“Yes,” said the young man stopping to brush 
his muddy hat before putting it on his head. 

As they were about to pass out, the sound of hur- 
ried footsteps was heard in the hall. The fright- 
ened face of Marie was seen peering into the room 
between the two sturdy gendarmes . She took 
in the entire scene at a glance. It was not the first 
time that their lodging-house had been invaded by 
the police. 

“ Who is this ?” asked Inspector Balzare interrog- 
atively of the young man. 

“A friend — my dearest friend,” said Roland 
brokenly. “You will permit me to say a few words 
to her, Monsieur l’lnspeetor ? ” 

“ Certainly, but be quick about it. Every mo- 
ment delays us in our investigation, and offers an 
opportunity for the guilty to escape. It is against 
our rules to permit this, so we must hear what you 
say; otherwise the interview is impossible,” 

“ Thank you,” said Roland, gratefully. 

At a sign from the Inspector, the gendarmes 
withdrew from the door and Marie entered. She 
was very pale and composed, but her lips trembled. 

“ Ah, Monsieur Roland, what is it — what has hap- 




THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 67 



“ Ait, Monsieur Roland, what is it— what has happened ? ” 


68 THE SECRET OF THE MARJONNETTES. 

pened ? ” laying her hand on the young man’s arm 
imploringly. 

“ You had better ask these gentlemen,” he said, 
turning his face away, unable to confront that piti- 
ful face. “ A crime was committed last night 
at No. 16, Rue des Acacias, at Montmorency. They 
have proved to their own satisfaction that I was 
on the grounds of the villa at about the time the 
crime was committed.” 

She did not seem to be listening to him. “ Six- 
teen, Rue des Acacias,” she kept murmuring over 
and over again. 

“ As they have proved that I was in Mont- 
morency at the time of the crime, I must have com- 
mitted the murder,” said Roland, with a bitter 
laugh. “They found out everything themselves, 
I assure you. I refused to answer anything.” 

She turned around and faced him. Her eyes 
looked deep into his and he trembled. 

“ But, you have done nothing — you have not the 
eyes of a man who has committed a crime, who has 
anything to be ashamed of. If you were there, as 
they say you were, why do you not tell them for 
what purpose ? It must have been an innocent one, 
and then they would let you go.” 

“ Let them find out for themselves,” he said sul- 
lenly. “ They shall learn nothing from me. I shall 
refuse to say anything.” 


THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 69 

She looked at him a moment — yearningly, sorrow- 
fully. 

“ You are silent to save another ! ” she said 
slowly. “ I can read it in your eyes. There is some 
one you want to shield even at the expense of your 
own life. Save yourself while you can. These 
police are terrible ; they will find out everything in 
time. You will only have jeopardized your life for 
nothing. Tell them what you know — tell them,” 
plucking eagerly at his sleeve. 

“ I will tell them nothing,” he said stolidly. 

“ You will not save yourself ? ” 

He was silent. 

“ Come ! ” broke in the sharp voice of the Inspector, 
“ time is up. En avant , mes enfants .” 

“ I must go ! ” said Roland sadly. “ What does 
it matter now where they take me, casting a regret- 
ful look at the broken statue through his misty 
eyes. 

“ Speak ! save yourself,” implored Marie. 

“ Good-bye,” he said tenderly, “ it may be a long 
time before we shall meet again.” 

“ Speak ! ” she continued, hardly heeding his out- 
stretched hand. He bit his lips and was silent. 
“ You will not ? ” she said sadly. “ Then I will save 
you from yourself. The murderer shall be found ! ” 

Then as they passed down the stairs she covered 
her face with her hands and wept bitterly. 


70 THE SECRET OF THE MARION JSTETTES. 


CHAPTER V. 

ENTERING THE SHADOW. 

Inspector Balzare, after disposing of his charge, 
drove on to Montmorency, alighting in front of No. 
16, Rue des Acacias. He crossed the lawn and en- 
tered the house, proceeding at once to the room of 
the crime. The room where this tragedy had been 
committed was on the first floor, and had originally 
been intended as the library. It was a sombre apart- 
ment with stained-glass windows, furnished with 
dark oak. The carpet was dark green, and almost 
matched the wall paper. There was a bow- window 
fitted with diamond panes of glass in leaden frames. 
From the ceiling depended an iron lantern in which 
a red light still glimmered. 

The centre table was piled high with papers, 
some torn and some in neatly folded packages. An 
open secretary stood by the bow- window. It was 
open and the top displayed the greatest confusion. 
The ink had been upset, and on the corner lay a 
Malay kreese with which the crime had been com- 
mitted. It had been found in a well in the garden 




— — — 


THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 71 

by one of the detectives left by Inspector Balzare in 
charge of the house. It was one of a number of 
others that had been nailed on the wall in the form 
of a sunflower. An open space in the pattern showed 
the place it had occupied. In the left-hand corner 
of the room rose a huge oaken bed surmounted 
by a canopy. The body lay there, but the curtains 
had been drawn closely to shut out the sight from 
the people in the room. 

Before the centre table, littered with papers, an 
old man was seated. His bald and bossy head 
wagged grotesquely on his shoulders as he wrote. He 
was a little man, with a frosty white face and sharp, 
bead-like eyes. This was Pere Prideaux, the oldest 
as well as one of the best members of the Parisian 
department du surete . He thought and planned how 
to trap criminals, but he generally left his work to his 
subordinates or to younger men. On either side 
of the door stood two policemen in civilian clothes. 

“ Well, what have you learned, Prideaux?” asked 
Inspector Balzare, flinging himself into a chair and 
motioning to the young man to take another. 

“ The clues are few, but enough to work on,” said 
the old man, tapping his teeth with the tip of his 
pen. “ We know very clearly how the murder was 
committed ; it now remains to find the man that did 
it. Ah, you have brought the young American,” 
turning his sharp eyes upon the young man in- 


72 THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 

quisitively for a moment. “Pest! Balzare, he 
never committed the murder.” 

“ Perhaps not,” said the Inspector, “ but we have 
found proof that he was here last night and in this 
house at about the time when the crime took place. 
He denies everything, or refuses to answer. He 
either did it himself or knows who is guilty. I ac- 
knowledge the young man’s face is in his favor ; but 
the police have long ago decided that features are 
no criterion of character. Boulac, who murdered 
his six little children last year in the most brutal 
manner, had a face like John the Baptist in Ra- 
phael’s Madonna. No, no, Pere Prideaux, if we be- 
lieved in the innocence of faces half of Mazas would 
be emptied. What new evidence have you dis- 
covered ? ” 

“ My theory is this,” said the old police officer 
adjusting his glasses : “ there were two implicated 
in this crime, one watched under the balcony in the 
front of the house, while the other entered this 
room by the bow- window there.” 

“ Why do you think so? ” 

“ Because, earlier in the evening, a slight rain had 
fallen, and there were fresh footprints in the clay 
along the walls of the house. The impressions are of 
two sizes — we have made models of them in plaster- 
of-Paris,” handing over two chalk-like blocks from 
the table. Inspector Balzare took the first one up 


THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 73 


and compared it with the shoes that Roland had 
worn the night before. 

“It was not your foot that made this impres- 
sion,” he said, looking at the young man thought- 
fully; “it belonged to a larger and heavier man, 
the foot is broader, the toes widely separated, show- 
ing that he who made this impression had rim bare- 
foot as a boy, and belonged, perhaps, to the peasant 
class.” 

Roland’s hopes rose, while the Inspector was say- 
ing this — they sank again, however, when Balzare 
took up the other cast and comparing it to the shoe 
in his hand, exclaimed: “Ah, here we have a fit 
exactly ! There is even a star that was stamped on 
the sole of the shoe reproduced here in the plaster. 
Have you still the strength to say, monsieur, that 
you were not here last night ?” 

“I have said nothing,” said Roland stolidly. 
“What you know you have discovered unaided. 
Pray, go on with your investigations.” 

“ What else have you discovered, Prideaux ? ” said 
the Inspector. 

“ The murderer, as I said, entered by the bow- 
window, while his accomplice,” and he looked search- 
ingly at Roland, “ was on guard in the front of the 
house. He found this room in darkness, except for 
that faint red light which you still see burning,” 
pointing to the red lantern above his head. “ This 


74 THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES . 

was evidently not enough for his purpose ; he wanted 
more light. It is evident that he took a piece of 
paper from his pocket, climbed upon a chair, lit it 
by the oil lamp in the lantern, and then lit one of 
the candles over there,” pointing to a candelabra on 
the mantelpiece. 

“ And this paper which he took from his pocket ? 
Have you found that?” asked Inspector Balzare, 
eagerly. 

Pere Prideaux smiled. “ I have, and we believe 
that will result ultimately in the discovery of the 
murderer. It is the portion of a letter. Here it is.” 
He passed over the scrap of burnt paper for the 
inspector to examine. 

Balzare took it up carefully, smoothed out the 
creases, and studied it attentively. “ This seems to 
be English,” he said finally. “ Is it not, monsieur ? ” 
handing the scrap to Boland. 

The young man glanced at it carelessly, then let 
it flutter from his hand, while a broken cry escaped 
him. It was the portion of a letter he had written 
himself ! 

Inspector Balzare had. not failed to notice the 
despairing look in the young man’s face, and 
made a mental memorandum of the fact. “It is 
English, is it not ? ” he said, carelessly picking up 
the paper. 

“ Yes,” said Roland, faintly. 








THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES . 75 

The Inspector summoned the clerk and requested 
the papers that had been found in Roland’s room. 
There was quite a sheaf of them. Fragments of 
poems, the beginning of a story which he had never 
completed, and a few sketches signed with his name. 
These the Inspector carried over to the table where 
P£re Prideaux was seated. He saw them comparing 
the scrap of paper found in the murdered man’s 
room with those taken from his studio. From time 
to time they looked towards the young man. The 
Inspector now and then shook his head. They had 
found by comparison that the writing was the same 
in both instances. The meshes of the net were 
tightening about him. W ell, at least they had spared 
her. What did it matter now where he spent his 
days ? But the guillotine ! Ah ! that was another 
thing ! He could not think of such a frightful ending 
with equanimity. Still, why should he think of any- 
thing so horrible ? When she learned of his pre- 
dicament, and knew he was in danger, she would 
herself tell them everything, and they would set him 
free. His heart even grew light at the thought of 
seeing her again. 

He was recalled to the present by the shrill voice 
of Inspector Balzare. “There is no doubt about 
it,” he said, “ the proofs are conclusive. We will 
now proceed with the interrogation of the servants. 
How many are there employed here ? ” 


76 THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 

“ Three,” said P£re Prideaux. “ A cook, femme 
de chambre, and the yalet of monsieur, who was 
first to discover the crime. They are in the next 
room, under guard.” 

“ Summon the valet — I will interrogate him first,” 
said the Inspector, settling himself down in an easy 
chair before the table. 

A moment later, a man was led in by a policeman. 
He was protesting volubly in broken French that 
he had nothing to do with the crime ; that he loved 
his master, and was desolated because of his 
death. When thrust into a chair, he subsided into 
tears. 

Inspector Balzare saw before him a young man of 
about twenty-eight. His face, long and pink, was 
close-shaven, and his round bullet-shaped head was 
covered with about a quarter of an inch of dun- 
colored hair. He looked too stupid to be a very great 
rogue, the Inspector decided ; the process of pumping 
in this case would be an easy one. “ Cease your 
sniveling,” he said sternly. “ We are not going to 
harm you. You want us to find the murderer of 
your master, do you not ? ” 

“ Oh, yes, monsieur, yes,” said the valet, wiping 
his eyes. 

“ Then look out for yourself and give us all the 
help you can. What is your name ? ” taking up his 
pen. 


THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 77 

“ William Morrison.” 

The Inspector puzzled a great deal oyer the spell- 
ing of this name, but finally set it down in his book. 

“Nationality ?” 

“ English.” 

“You have been in the service of Monsieur 
Carlton — how long ? ” 

“ For five years. He engaged me in New York 
the day before he set sail for this country.” 

“ Five years, eh ? Have you any reason to suppose 
that your master had any enemies — any one who 
hated him enough to wish to take his life ? ” 

The valet was silent — he squirmed about in his 
chair and studied the pattern of the carpet. 

“Did you hear what I said?” asked Inspector 
Balzare sharply. 

“ Oh, yes, sir, perfectly well ; I was only collecting 
my thoughts.” 

“Well, make haste about it.” 

The valet raised his head. “ I remember, when I 
first took service with Monsieur, that he raised a 
great row with his daughter at the breakfast-table 
one morning at Nice. It seems she had just received 
a letter from a young man in America, and it had 
fallen into his hands. This young man had been in 
love with Mademoiselle in America, and from what I 
can gather his attentions were not disliked except by 
the father — anyway this letter was the occasion of 


78 THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 

a grand row. Monsieur stormed until he was black 
in the face, and vowed that if his daughter had any- 
thing^ to do with her beggarly lover he should put 
her in a convent. She soothed him down, and finally 
promised to give the young man up for good and 
all.” 

During the commencement of this interrogation 
Roland had kept his eyes on the floor, but at the 
mention of the letter he straightened himself up, 
and cast a frightened look at the valet. Everything 
seemed to be conspiring against him. He shivered 
as if he felt the cold knife of the guillotine already 
on his throat — for he had written that letter; it 
would be proved that he had reason to hate the 
father, and there the case against him was complete. 
For the first time during the investigation he began 
fully to realize what a terrible abyss yawned before 
him. He sank back in his chair in a half-fainting 
condition, feeling the eyes of Pere Prideaux were 
looking straight into his soul. 

“ So you have reason to believe that Monsieur Carl- 
ton was hated by this young man — this poor suitor 
for the hand of Mademoiselle?” asked Inspector 
Balzare. 

“ Certainly there could have been no love lost 
between them. The daughter was willing enough, 
I daresay, to share the young man’s bread and 
cheese and kisses, but the father was the obstacle. 


TEE SECRET OF TEE MARIONNETTES. 79 

She had been brought up to fear her father, and his 
word was law. 

“ Have you ever seen this young man?” asked the 
policeman sharply. 

“ No, sir — that was before my time. He has not 
appeared on the tapis since I have been in Monsieur’s 
service.” 

“ Hum ! ” remarked the Inspector, making a great 
many notes in the blank book before him. “I 
believe if we could find that young man we should 
know who committed the murder. This crime 
was not committed for the sake of gain. A gold 
watch and several rings lay on the mantelpiece, 
which the assassin might have picked up readily. 
From the fact that the criminal broke open all the 
drawers of the secretary, and scattered the papers 
right and left, we are led to believe that he was 
looking for certain documents more than plunder. 
Monsieur was married a second time, was he not, 
and to a French lady ? ” 

“Yes, monsieur. He was a widower when he 
first came to Nice, and it was there he met the lady 
who afterwards became Madame Carlton. She died 
the following year in Switzerland, where she had 
gone for her health.” 

“ Tell me what you know about her.” 

“ Mademoiselle Yerrier, as she called herself, came 
to Nice that September, and took a cottage near the 


80 THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 

hotel where Monsieur was stopping. She was un- 
accompanied by a chaperone, which occasioned con- 
siderable comment. Most people thought she was 
an actress, and society unanimously turned its back 
upon her. This did not seem to worry her in the 
least. She was seen every morning on the prome- 
nade by the sea, and seemed to be unconscious of the 
fact that the haut monde had tabooed her. She was 
a powerful, athletic young woman, which led some 
of the ill-natured to say that she had belonged to a 
circus ; but her manners were certainly those of a 
lady, though she was clearly of bourgeois origin. I 
could not begin to tell you the variety of stories and 
rumors current about Mademoiselle Verrier.” 

“Don’t try,” said the Inspector laconically, “but 
hurry on with your story. How did she meet 
Monsieur Carlton ? ” 

“ It happened one evening that he was out driv- 
ing with his daughter. The horses took fright, and 
the driver, who was drunk, could not manage them. 
A collapse was imminent. Mademoiselle Verrier was 
riding by on horseback and saw this predicament. 
She rode forward, and stood directly in the way of 
their carriage. There was a collision, her horse 
was struck, and she fell to the ground, but their 
carriage was stopped. She suffered some severe 
contusions, and, as the hotel of Monsieur Carlton 
was not far away, she was borne there. The daughter 


THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 81 

and father, overcome with gratitude to this strange 
woman who had saved their lives, nursed her back 
to life again. The father fell in love and married 
her as soon as the period of convalescence was over. 
Voila tout . It was like a scene from a play.” 

“ But had Mademoiselle Yerrier any friends ?” 

“ None that I know of — except a few young men 
such as you always find hanging about the skirts of 
a pretty woman. I believe some one did call to see 
her after we had gone away. A burly bourgeois 
who seemed to be a creditor of Mademoiselle, for 
he swore terribly when he found she had gone.” 

“Did this man ever appear again?” asked the 
Inspector. 

“ No, monsieur ; but it seemed to me that, for some 
reason or other, Madame Carlton wished to keep 
under cover, as you might say. We left France 
immediately after her marriage, and the remain- 
ing years of her life were spent in Italy and Swit- 
zerland. Yet she dearly loved France, and it was 
her dying wish to be buried near Paris. I always 
thought that she was afraid of meeting some one 
here, perhaps some former lover, for there was no 
reason for their avoiding this country, which they 
both loved. I have often thought that that man 
who appeared after we had gone away must have 
been the cause of our flight. I know she appeared 

to be horribly frightened when I told her about it, 
6 


82 THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES . 

and, though we were out of the country at the time, 
she insisted on setting off at once for a little town in 
the mountains, where no stranger ever came, just as 
if she were a criminal trying to escape from the law.” 

“All this that you tell me complicates matters 
considerably,” said the Inspector. “This murder 
must have been committed by one of two men. The 
young man, the poor suitor for Mademoiselle 
Carlton’s hand — who had reason to hate the father 
and wish him removed — or the possible lover of 
Mademoiselle Yerrier. Both of these men we must 
find.” 

He drummed on the edge of the table with his long 
fingers, and whistled thoughtfully to himself ; then 
his eyes roamed about the room and rested care- 
lessly on the huddled figure of Roland in the big 
arm-chair. 

“ Monsieur,” he said, with a valicuni glitter in his 
eyes, “have you any idea who this poor lover of 
Mademoiselle Carlton’s was ? ” 

Roland turned and stared at him affrightedly. 

“No, not the slightest.” 

The police officer bit the end of his pen and 
laughed. It was a pleasant enough laugh, but 
Roland felt the sound rippling along his spine like 
a shooting pain. 

“ I have,” said Inspector Balzare, quietly ; then, 
swinging briskly around in his chair, he said to the 


THE SECRET OF THE MALUONNETTES. 83 


valet : “ Bring your thoughts to hear now on last 
night, jeune homme . Where do you sleep ? ” 

“ On the other side of the hall. The room adjoins 
the pantry. It is small, and was probably only a 
linen closet. Monsieur would have me sleep as 
near him as possible, in case he should be ill in the 
night. He was a very nervous man — one might 
have imagined him to be a Nihilist, always mixed 
up in some conspiracy, by the way he avoided 
strangers. He started every time he heard a 
strange voice.” 

“Ah, he had reason to believe that some one 
hated him,” and again the eyes of the police officer 
wandered towards Roland, who shrank back into 
the recesses of his chair. 

“Yes!” said the valet, “he undoubtedly feared 
some one. If he had not been a man of upright life 
I should have imagined that he had, at some time, 
committed a crime, and that remorse was preying 
on his mind ; but he was too kind-hearted to hurt 
a fly.” The valet paused and brushed some tears 
from his eyes. It was evident the poor fellow had 
loved his master. 

“ Now,” said Inspector Balzare, “ you will please 
tell me, as briefly as possible, if you heard any un- 
usual sounds last night.” 

The valet dried his eyes on a flaming handker- 
chief, and continued in a husky voice : 


84 THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 

“ I slept badly last night, and several times, hear- 
ing noises in the master’s room, I went over to his 
door and peered into the keyhole. I saw him walk- 
ing up and down, half-dressed. As he was often 
attacked by insomnia I thought nothing of it, and 
went back to bed. I fell into a doze, and, whether 
I dreamt it or not I, fancied that some struggle was 
going on in the next room. To reassure myself I 
got up and again went over to his door and bent my 
head to listen. Everything was quiet. As I stood 
there it seemed to me that I heard the sound of 
suppressed breathing close behind me. It gave me 
a horrible feeling ; the thought flashed over me that 
something terrible had happened. I will acknowl- 
edge that I almost fainted from fear. There was 
very little light in the corridor, and that came from 
the moonlight shining through the panels of stained 
glass on either side of the front door. As I stood 
there, trembling, a shadow flitted by me. I tried to 
summon up my courage and reach out and seize it, 
but I could not move a muscle. The figure passed 
me, opened the door noiselessly, and disappeared.” 

“ And you did not hasten to follow this apparition 
before it escaped ? ” 

“ I wanted* to, Monsieur l’lnspecteur, but my limbs 
seemed frozen ; I could not move a muscle.” 

“ So you let him go ? ” 

“ Yes, monsieur. You must remember that I was 


THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 85 


not dressed and unarmed, and as soon as I recovered 
my senses I rushed back to my room and got my revol- 
ver and returned, but of course then it was too late.” 

“And you did not see this spectre distinctly 
enough to recognize him again?” said Balzare in a 
disgusted voice. 

“It was hardly possible, the light was so dim. 
I could see, however, that he was a young man with 
a slender figure, and that he walked with a springy 
step. As he passed out of the door I heard a tear- 
ing sound, as if something had caught on a nail. 
That satisfied me that the visitor was not an appari- 
tion, and it was then that I rushed back to my room 
to get my pistol.” 

Pere Prideaux at this juncture appeared very 
much excited. 

“We have another clue,” he said, bringing his 
hand down with smashing force on the table. 
“Look at this piece of cloth,” displaying about an 
inch of brown material. “This was found on a 
nail this morning in the hall, and though we have 
compared it with the clothes of Monsieur Carlton 
and his valet, it does not match. Believe me, In- 
spector Balzare, when we have found the suit from 
which this piece of cloth was torn we shall not have 
far to look for the murderer.” 

Boland uttered a cry that caused every eye in 
the room to turn towards him. That criminating 


86 the SECRET OF THE MARION NETTES. 

piece of cloth was of the same pattern as the suit he 
wore to-day ! 

To his surprise the Inspector paid no more atten- 
tion .to it hut, filed it away in an envelope which he 
endorsed with a memorandum. 

“ Have you told me all you know about the case ? ” 
said Balzare, turning again to the valet. 

“ There is little more to add, monsieur. After I 
found out that it would be useless to attempt to 
follow the strange man, I went back to my master’s 
room, and again peered in through the keyhole. I 
saw him lying on the floor. The window was wide 
open, and the breeze was blowing the papers from 
the table about the room. A bright ray of moon- 
light shone on his face as he lay there, and I saw 
blood distinctly on his white shirt. Then 1 gave the 
alarm. The servants rushed in. We broke down 
the door. The rest that * followed you already 
know.” He wound up with a sigh, and seemed to 
feel relieved that he had come to the end of his 
story. 

“ Just a moment,” said Inspector Balzare, as the 
valet rose to go. “You say that you and the 
servants were the first on the scene of the murder. 
Did not Mademoiselle Carlton hear the alarm ? ” 

“ Not at first, it seems. Rosette, the maid, finally 
went up and rapped on her door. It was opened 
almost immediately, and she was surprised to find 


THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 87 


Mademoiselle dressed in a white wrapper, and also 
noticed that the bed had not been occupied.” 

The Inspector hissed significantly through his 
teeth, stared at the ceiling, and made some signs in 
the air with the tip of his pen. Then he bent down 
over his hook and began writing furiously. At the 
end of five minutes he raised his face. 

“That is all,” he said to the valet. “You may 
go now. Your evidence is very valuable, and 
you gave it very clearly. I thank you in the name 
of the Procureur de la Republique.” 

The valet bowed and left the room, escorted by 
one of the gendarmes . 

“ Call the famme de chambre , Rosette,” said 
Inspector Balzare. 

The maid — a fresh-faced country girl with piercing 
black eyes, whose face was streaked with the marks 
of recent tears, made her appearance. 

“ Oh, what will they do to me ? What will they 
do to me ? ” she moaned, looking affrightedly at the 
two police officers at the table. 

“ Nothing, my child,” said Balzare kindly. “ If 
you tell us the truth, and nothing but the truth ” 

She sank into the chair, pushed forward by the 
gendarme , a huddled heap of pink satine. 

“ What is your name ? ” said the Inspector. 

“ Rosette Pinchon.” 

“ Age ? ” 


88 THE secret of the marionnettes. 

“ Twenty, Monsieur le Marechal. But, mon Dieu , , 
I swear by all the saints I never harmed monsieur,” 
ready to weep again. 

“No one accuses you of anything,” said the 
Inspector. “We only want to find out what you 
know about this case, in order to discover the 
murderer.” 

“ Ah,” with a sigh of relief. 

“ Rosette, you are, I believe, th efamme de cham - 
Ire of Mademoiselle Carlton. How long have you 
been in the service of the family ? ” 

“ Two years, monsieur.” 

“ Have you any reason to believe that Monsieur 
Carlton was hated by any one ? ” 

“Oh, yes, sir, by the butcher. He had a most 
terrible dog that used to run out at Monsieur when 
he took his morning promenades, and one day 
Monsieur shot the beast. The butcher, who is a 
terrible man, swore that he would serve that Amer- 
ican the same way.” 

“ Oh, never mind about that,” said the Inspector, 
cutting her off short, “ that has nothing to do with 
the case.” 

Rosette looked at him in surprise. She thought 
she was furnishing very important evidence. 

“ Where do you sleep in this house ? ” began Bal- 
zare, pursuing another tack. 

“ In the room adjoining that of Mademoiselle, on 


THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 89 

the other side of the corridor on the second floor.” 

“ Did you hear any unusual sounds last night ? ” 

44 Yes, monsieur.” 

44 Ah ! Inform us what they were.” 

44 I heard the sound of voices in Mademoiselle’s 
room, or at least fancied I did, for I was half asleep. 
Then footsteps in the hall. I got up and went to 
the window and looked out. It was a clear moon- 
light night, and I could see the walks and the flower- 
beds very clearly. I saw a man crouching in the 
shadow of the wall. He crept stealthily along in the 
shadow until he reached the gate. Here he leaped 
over and disappeared.” 

44 And did you notice anything peculiar about this 
man. Was he young or old ?” 

44 He seemed to be young ; slenderly built ; some- 
thing — something,” looking around the room, as if 
to find some comparison, 44 like that man there,” 
pointing to Roland. 

A triumphant gleam flashed from the dark eyes 
of the Inspector. 

44 Indeed ! ” he said quietly, and wrote again in his 
book. 44 You are sure he was a young man, then. 
Well, were you able to see his face? Would you 
recognize him if you saw him face to face again.” 

44 No, monsieur ; he had his back to me and he 
kept in the shadow,” 


90 THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES . 

“ Once only did he appear in the moonlight, but 
that was when he leaped over the gate. He was 
then too far away for me to distinguish his feat- 
ures.” 

“ Well, what did you do then ?” 

“ I returned to my room and fell asleep until I 
was awakened by the alarm given by Monsieur’s 
valet. I descended and we broke in the door. 
The cook was standing with him when I came 
down.” 

“ How long were you forcing an entrance?” 

“ At least fifteen minutes I should think, because 
Guillaume had to go down in the basement and get 
a hatchet.” 

“ And Mademoiselle Carlton had not appeared ? ” 

“ No, sir ; it was not until we were in the room 
and had discovered the body that we thought of 
her. Then I went upstairs and rapped on her 
door.” 

“ Did she keep you waiting? ” 

“ I was there at least five minutes before she let 
me in. She was dressed in a white tea-gown and 
seemed to be very much disturbed. I happened to 
look towards the bed and saw that it had not been 
occupied.” 

“ Was there anything remarkable about her be- 
havior when she entered the scene of the crime ? ” 

“ Only such as we might expect from an only 


THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 


91 


daughter who had lost her father. Her grief was 
terrible, and it was sincere. She dearly loved the 
old man, though at times he treated her rather 
harshly.” 

“ Had Mademoiselle any visitors — any young 
men ? ” 

“ No, sir, there was no one that came here but an 
old picture dealer, a friend of Monsieur’s. They 
played cards together every evening. Mademoiselle, 
however, was affianced, I believe, to a young Ameri- 
can whom they met somewhere on the continent. 
He came to Paris a few days ago. His name is Kil- 
braith, and he is stopping at the Grand Hotel. Since 
his arrival he has been here frequently to take 
Mademoiselle out riding. I have only seen him 
once or twice.” 

The Inspector bent over his book and wrote 
rapidly. 

“ That will do, Rosette, ” he said looking up after 
a moment. “ You are free to go now. Your evi- 
dence will not be needed until the trial.” 

“ I should like to stay here, to wait on Made- 
moiselle, ” she said timorously. 

“ Oh, well, you can suit yourself about that — I 
meant to say that the police are through with 
you for the present.” 

Rosette bowed and left the room, while In- 
spector Balzare bent over his work. 


92 THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 


“Well, young man,”he said looking up and catch- 
ing the faltering eye of the young student, “you 
have heard me interrogate the servants. Have you 
anything to say? Has your memory been re- 
freshed ? ” 

“ I have nothing to say, ” said Roland, biting his 

Up. 

“ No theory as to who committed the murder ? ” 
pursued Balzare, as if he took a malicious pleasure 
in seeing the young man cower before him. 

“ None, monsieur.” 

“ But I have,” smiled the other, with a look that 
seemed to freeze the student’s heart. “ Believe me, 
before a week is out the police will have found the 
man who committed this murder — if,” he added, “ we 
have not got him now.” And before the horror- 
struck young man could answer, he called out 
blithely, 

“ Bring in the cook.” 

But the cook had nothing new to add to the evi- 
dence given, and was soon dismissed. 

“Now,” said the Inspector, addressing a gen- 
darme by the door, “ you will tell Rosette to ap- 
prise her mistress that we should like to have a few 
words with her.” 

The man departed on his mission. Roland turned 
his pale face wistfully towards the door. His hope 
lay in what she would say. A few words from 


THE SECRET OF THE MAR10NNETTES. 93 

her, and he would be a free man. But would she 
say them ? 

The door opened, and Rita appeared, leaning 
heavily on the arm of the maid. She was dressed in 
black. The sombre costume brought out with start- 
ling distinctness her pale, sorrow-stricken features. 
She carried her head on one side. Her eyes were 
fixed on the floor. She seemed to be walking as in a 
dream. They helped her into a chair, where she 
sank in a little crinkled heap. She was afraid to 
look around, dreading to meet that awful object 
which she knew lay on the bed. 

u We will only detain you a few moments,” said 
the Inspector kindly. “ Believe me, mademoiselle, I 
should have spared you the pain of this interview 
had it not been necessary, but justice demands the 
swift punishment of the person who has com- 
mitted this infamous deed, and you may be able to 
help us.” 

She bowed her head, but did not look up. 

“ We have already arrested a young man on sus- 
picion. We have proved to our own satisfaction that 
he must have been here last night. His mission 
here, however, may have been an entirely harmless 
one. He refuses to say anything. Look at him 
well — do you recognize him as a friend ? ” 

“ I — I can see no one,” she said faintly, looking 
here and there about the room. 


94 THE SECBET OF THE MARION NETTES. 

The Inspector rose, and, taking her gently by the 
hand, led her forward until she stood face to face with 
Roland. He motioned for the young man to rise. 

“ Look at him well,” said Balzare ; “ do you recog- 
nize this man ? have you seen him before ? ” 

Now, with the sunlight full upon her face, she 
looked paler than before ; but, only for the fact that 
her lips quivered slightly, her face seemed perfectly 
composed. Roland turned his despairing eyes to- 
wards her, and his lips moved, as if he was mutely 
begging her to save him. 

Presently she whispered through her half-opened 
lips, so faintly that the police officer behind her heard 
nothing — 

“ Do they know of our meeting ? ” 

He shook his head slightly, sadly, and for the first 
time since she had been in the room a slight flush 
mounted to her cheeks. She turned away. 

The Inspector said in his business-like tone — 

“ Well, mademoiselle, do you recognize this man ? ” 
“Yes.” 

“ When did you see him last ? ” 

“ Five years ago ? ” 

“Not since.” 

She looked at the quivering face of the young man, 
and her lips moved, but she uttered no word. She 
turned her face aside. 

“ Not since,” she said, bowing her head. 


THE SEC BE 7" OF THE MARIONNETTES. 95 

a Oh, Rita — Rita,” cried Roland in English, “ will 
you not say a word ! I have kept silent for your 
sake — to save you. All that they know they have 
found out for themselves, but, slowly, they are driv- 
ing me to death — the evidence is overwhelming — 
save me. Do not let me die for a crime I never 
committed. One word from you and I should be a 
free man.” 

“ It is your own work,” she said, coldly. “ When 
you paid me this unwelcome visit you knew the 
danger you ran — I have lost my father ; shall I lose 
my own good name as well ? ” 

“ But think of what I was to you once ! By 
the memory of those days, speak to them and 
save me! ” 

“I can do nothing,” she said faintly, turning 
away. “ Monsieur l’lnspecteur, your arm,” address- 
ing Balzare. “ This scene has proved too much for 
my strength.” 

“ Very well, my child; we will defer the interro- 
gation until you are a little stronger ; ” and he led 
her towards the door. 

“ Rita ! ” cried Roland in a broken voice. But 
she did not turn to look back. 

“ What does he say ? ” asked the Inspector eagerly. 

“ He is begging me to save him,” she said huskily, 
“ as if I could.” 

“ Rita ! ” But she had passed out at the door. As 


96 THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 


it closed on her the sound of a falling body was 
heard. 

“ Mon Dieu ! ” cried Pere Prideaux. “ The pris- 
oner has fainted.’’ 


THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 97 


CHAPTER VI. 

THE INSPECTOR IS PUZZLED. 

Inspector Balzare lived in a suite of rooms in the 
Rue Jacob. They comprised a small salon , a dining- 
room adjoining, a study, and, on the right, a bed- 
room. The last-mentioned apartment communicated 
with a covered passage-way leading to the garden, 
and from thence the back street could be reached 
through a door in the wall. The Inspector found 
this mysterious exit very useful when he was in 
pursuit of a criminal in disguise ; he could come 
and go at all hours without arousing the curiosity 
of prying neighbors. How that he occupied a high 
position in the department, he might have relegated 
the duty of tracking criminals to his subordinates ; 
but the old thief-taker was thoroughly enamored 
with his work, and, in spite of his arduous duties as 
Inspector, he always took a hand in the most inter- 
esting cases. 

On the morning after the investigation at Mont- 
morency Balzare was seated in his study, poring 

over a mass of papers. It was a sombre apartment, 
7 




98 THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 

in which the prevailing shade was dark red. On 
account of its sanguinary hue, therefore, he used to 
refer to it jocularly as his, “ abbatoir,” for here pre- 
liminary examinations of suspected persons were 
often held. Here he dissected the troubled minds 
of important criminals. 

On either side of the room stood tall glass-cases 
filled with a heterogeneous collection of queer ob- 
jects. Here was the rose-colored mask of the 
Widow Grasse, who had forced a former lover to 
throw vitriol on a young man as he was entering 
her house. She nursed him in the hope of persuad- 
ing him to marry her ; but, lest he should get well 
too soon, she bathed his wounds with a solution of sul- 
phuric acid. Horrible looking knives with sinister 
stains on the blades were a feature of this collection, 
and revolvers arranged in fantastic patterns ; cords 
and spotted handkerchiefs taken from stranglers, 
and bottles half filled with vitriol ; bombs found in 
the apartments of Russian nihilists, and deadly in- 
fernal machines with intricate machinery. 

In the midst of this gruesome museum was the 
sombre figure of the Inspector, seated like an aveng- 
ing Nemesis before his black oak desk. It was still 
early in the morning, but the Inspector had been 
at work for several hours. He hardly looked up 
as the door opened and Pere Prideaux entered. 

“ Bon jour , Balzare,” remarks the old man, seat- 


THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 99 

ing himself, with a gasp, in an arm-chair, and mop- 
ping his bald head vigorously With a scarlet hand- 
kerchief. 

“ Bon jour, Prideaux,” replies the Inspector, writ- 
ing rapidly. “ How fares it with our young man? 
Has he made any confession yet ? ” 

“Hot a word can we get out of him. He still 
persists in denying everything.” 

“ What a fool ! ” grumbles Balzare. 

“ Why do you say that ? ” 

“ Because I do not think he committed the crime. 
There is no murder in his eyes.” 

“But he was there in the house that night,” 
snaps out Pere Prideaux. 

“ That may be. I know that circumstantial evi- 
dence is against him, that he stands in the shadow 
of the guillotine. But he may have been there that 
night, and yet not have committed the crime.” 

“ Yes, that is possible, but not probable.” 

“ What is your theory ? ” 

“ I believe him guilty.” 

“Ah!” 

“ Yes. He had every reason to wish the father 
out of the way. He was in love with the daughter. 
She was not indifferent, evidently, to him. By 
removing the only obstacle in his way, he had a 
chance to win the girl.” 

“ But has it ever occurred to you that perhaps she 




100 THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 

might have something to do with the crime ? ” said 
Inspector Balzare, tapping his teeth with the handle 
of the pen. 

“Impossible! I don’t believe it for a moment. 
She is a good woman.” 

“ That may be ; but I believe she lied when she 
said she had not seen the prisoner for five years. 
I watched their faces well, and I know that she was 
keeping something back. She knows a great deal 
more than she cares to say.” 

“But why does he not speak and save himself if 
he is innocent ? ” 

“He wishes to save her, if possible. I think he 
expected her to make some declaration that would 
clear him. That is why he fainted after she had 
made her statement.” 

“ But I don’t see ! ” 

“ She probably realized that it was a good oppor- 
tunity to get rid of a poor lover who might some 
day prove troublesome, so she kept her peace.” 

“I will never believe that a young girl like that 
would be guilty of such infamy. Driving a man to 
the scaffold whom she knows to be innocent ! Your 
conclusions are all wrong, Balzare.” 

“That may be,” said his companion quietly. 
“ But you misunderstand me. This girl is not sure 
that he did not commit the crime. Evidence points 
to him as the guilty man. She undoubtedly saw 


THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 101 

him that night, and his visit to her may have been 
wholly innocent; but what does she know about 
what transpired after he left the house — after he 
went downstairs.” 

“ How do you know he went downstairs ? ” 

“ From this,” said the Inspector, holding up the 
bit of cloth that was displayed the day before at the 
investigation. “ This piece of cloth was discovered 
in the hall, as you remember .” 

“ Well?” 

“ It matches the suit of clothes worn by the pris- 
oner on the night of the crime. There is nothing 
else like it in the house.” * 

“ Bah ! that cloth is not unique. There must be 
hundreds of suits of clothes in Paris of that 
pattern.” 

“ That may be,” said Balzare ; “ but does it not 
occur to you that it is rather a peculiar coincidence 
that this young man whom we will consider inno- 
cent and the real murderer should have chosen the 
same style of clothes.” 

P&re Prideaux grumbled and drummed on the 
table with his bony fingers. 

“Well,” he said surlily, “you will have a good 
deal of trouble extricating this young man from the 
swamp in which he has fallen.” 

“I know that,” replied the Inspector calmly, “ for 
it is doubly difficult, because he will not help him- 


102 THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 

self. In shielding, or attempting to shield* this girl, 
he may lose his own head.” 

“ The only thing that can save him ” 

<c Is to find that man who called to see Mademoi- 
selle Yerrier at Nice.” 

“Yon don’t place any significance on that inci- 
dent ? Why, he might have been an angry trades- 
man with a bill.” 

“ Yes, he might ; but all the same I should like to 
have him right here in this room for about twenty 
minutes. You remember, Prideaux, that the family 
left France at once after the marriage and lived out 
of the country until the wife died, — that is rather 
strange.” 

“ Oh, I don’t know,” yawned the old man, who 
wished to stick to his own theory. 

“ She had some reason for hiding, for keeping out 
of France, make no mistake. She was afraid of being 
pursued by someone, — if not that person at Nice, by 
someone else. Then look at the husband, even after 
her death he seems to have lived in a state of fear, 
as if dreading some secret foe. It could not be this 
young man, whom he had not seen for five years, and 
probably did not know whether he was alive or 
dead. Believe me, Prideaux, there is someone else 
in the case.” 

“Well, find him, find him,” growled the old man 


THE SECUET OF THE MAJUOHNETTES, 103 


irritably. “ Go, and waste your time hunting up a 
phantom that does not exist,” 

“ I intend to,” said the Inspector quietly. “ I may 
not succeed, but at least my time will not have 
been wasted. When I am hunting for the solution 
of one mystery, I often get on the track of another. 
Can I rely on you to help me ? ” 

“No, you cannot. We have a clear case, and one 
that admits of very little doubt. Who ever heard 
of running after an omnibus after you had caught 
it. This young man is clearly guilty. He didn’t 
fool me with his affected innocence ; though I admit 
at first his face inclined me to favor him.” 

“Very well,” said Balzare, “ I shall work alone. 
You have your theory, and nothing will shake it. 
What if I should prove that you were wrong ? ” 

“ If you do, I will pay for a handsome dinner at 
the ‘ Cafe Riche.’ ” 

“ And I, if I lose.” 

And they shook hands over this bet that involved 
the life of a fellow-being, 

“ I shall start out on my investigations this very 
morning,” said the Inspector, looking at his watch, 
“ and it will be strange if I do not shed some new 
light on this mystery before night.” 

“ But it isn’t a mystery, it is clear as day.” 

“ Hot to me. If the case is so clear to you, please 
explain, if you can, why the prisoner returned in 


104 THE SEC BET OF THE MARION NETTES. 

rags to Paris after his visit to Montmorency. There 
were no signs of a struggle in the apartment ; the 
old man was struck from behind. Yet, from the 
appearance of the young man, he must have been 
engaged in a rough-and-tumble fight. I propose to 
find out who his antagonist was.” 

“ And I hope you will succeed,” sneered the old 
detective. “He probably got mixed up in some 
tavern brawl on the way home. He may have been 
held up by a highwayman.” 

“ Impossible ! he was followed from Montmorency 
to Paris by one of the men of the Department. He 
was not lost sight of for a moment, except at Mont- 
morency. If any fight took place, it was there.” 

“Well, even if you find the antagonist, I don’t 
see what light he could cast on the case.” 

“ None, perhaps, but just the same I have an in- 
terest in finding that individual.” 

“Very well,” said Pere Prideaux, “you go your 
way, and I will go mine in this case, and we will see 
who comes out the winner. My wager with you 
was perhaps not fair. One should not gamble on a 
sure thing,” with a twinkle of his keen gray eyes. 

“ Oh, set your mind at rest on that score,” smiled 
the Inspector. “Wait until we cast up accounts at 
the end of the game.” 

“ You will find yours heavy enough at the Cafe 







106 THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 

Riche, never fear,” said Pere Prideaux ; “ but I, too, 
must go back to my work,” as he noticed the In- 
spector had put his papers away in the drawer of 
the secretary. “ Well, comrade, it will be only a 
few days at the most when you will be back on the 
old trail with me.” 

“ Perhaps,” said the Inspector, in a non-committal 
way. 

“ Bonjour, Ralzare, d tout-d-Vheure .” 

“ Bon jour , Prideaux,” bowing the old man out. 

“ Old fool ! ” said the Inspector, after his visitor 
had gone. u These old bloodhounds think that 
they have nothing to learn. If I were a criminal I 
could throw dust in the eyes of a dozen such detec- 
tives. It is we younger men who unravel the most 
difficult cases. These old fellows are good enough 
to plan out a campaign on paper ; but when it comes 
to work, they have their theories, and nothing will 
upset them. Now then, en route” and he passed 
into his bedroom. 

A few minutes later, Inspector Balzare let himself 
out of the door in the wall at the foot of his garden. 
Disguised as he was, his own best friends would 
have had trouble in recognizing him. A soft felt 
hat covered with lint rested on a reddish-brown 
wig that crowned his head, which had apparently 
swelled in size since we last saw him. The nose 


THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 107 


of an apoplectic red suggested that nature, not 
unassisted by art, had tinted it. A stubbly yellow 
moustache bristled up aggressively over his mouth. 
In his ears he wore gold rings. 

An enormous blouse, very greasy, descended to 
his knees and half hid the blue corduroy trousers 
he wore. His feet were thrust into enormous 
black sabots stuffed with straw. In his hand he 
carried a short carter’s whip. Thus accoutered 
Inspector Balzare might have been taken for a 
market gardener, a commissionaire, or a thief. 

He walked with a swinging gait, clumping noisily 
along the pavement in his wooden shoes, and as 
he walked he hummed to himself an old Gascon air. 

Inspector Balzare, having reached an unfrequented 
neighborhood, called a cab, and having got in, told 
the driver to take him to Montmorency. He spent 
the time on the way in rearranging his disguise, 
and when in sight of the little town dismounted 
and dismissed his carriage. He then proceeded on 
foot up the steep hill on which the principal houses 
are built. In the square where the market is held 
once a week the three cafes of the place are situated. 
Balzare stopped in the first two to refresh himself 
and chat with the landlord, but finding nothing 
to interest him he passed on to the Soleil d’Or, a 
dingy cabaret at the extreme end of the square. 


108 THE SECBET OF THE MARION NETTES, 

As he drew near, the sound of a violent altercation 
within caused him to quicken his footsteps. Push- 
ing open the door he saw a man, stout and red-faced, 
engaged in kicking a younger man who was rolling 
on the floor and howling. There were others in the 
room, three or four farm laborers, sipping their 
absinthe and puffing on rank clay pipes, who were 
laughing noisily over the §cene. 

“ Ah, gros faineant que vous etes . I will teach you 
to steal my money, sale bdtef cried the red-faced 
man, delivering another kick at the prostrate form 
on the floor, which was followed by a yell. 

“Ah! you ought to go to prison, pig, and you 
should if I had not promised your mother (may the 
saints guard her ! ) to watch over you.” 

“What appears to be the trouble ?” asked Balzare 
mildly. 

The landlord, for it was indeed he, who had been 
kicking the young man on the floor, left his prey and 
went behind the counter in front of which the 
police officer was standing. 

“ Ah, figure to yourself, monsieur,” he said, twist- 
ing his great fat face grotesquely, “ this pig here, 
who will do no work and who is killing himself 
with absinthe, insisted a moment ago on treating 
the house. I objected because he always drinks 
here on credit, and it does not pay to be generous 


THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 109 


with another’s liquor. When I remonstrated with 
him, he takes out a twenty-franc piece — a twenty- 
franc piece, mind you, and he never able to earn 
twenty sous in his life — and he offers to pay me 
for the consommations. Now, where did he get 
that money ? He must have stolen it, and from me ; 
for he is not sly or smart enough to be able to steal 
it from anyone else.” 

“ I did not steal it,” wailed the son, who had now 
risen from the floor and was dusting off his dirty 
clothes with a rueful air. “ It was given to me, 1 
told you.” 

“A likely story,” grumbled the father. “One 
does not throw gold pieces to such carrion as you ; 
they are too scarce, parbleu ! You had nothing in 
your pockets until yesterday morning, when you 
routed me up at daybreak to get the key of the 
cellar. You were up to some mischief that night, 
cochon , for you came home in rags, as if you had 
rolled in the dust.” 

The Inspector pricked up his ears, as if he already 
scented a clue. 

“ Perhaps you do the young man an injustice,” said 
Balzare, mildly. “ He looks as if he were an honest 
youth, and a truthful one,” calmly surveying the 
bleared gray features of the son, where the stamp 
of the green death had already set its seal. “ Come, 


110 THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 

I have made some money selling my cattle in Paris 
to-day ; let us all have a drink to restore good-fellow- 
ship.” 

“ Ah, he is a good enough son, if he would only 
work,” said the tavern-keeper, as he bustled around 
to see what his customers would drink. “ A little 
too fond of absinthe, but still an affectionate lad, 
and the image of his sainted mother. But I would 
that he might have been able to better explain 
where that money came from. Mon Dieu / we are 
poor, but no Picard was ever known to steal.” 

“I didn’t steal,” growled the young man, who 
now, seated before the table, was dripping water in 
his absinthe. 

“Of course you didn’t,” said Inspector Balzare, 
seating himself at the same table. “One can see 
by your face that you are thoroughly honest. Why 
didn’t you explain to your father just how it 
happened that that money came into your posses- 
sion ? ” 

The young man, who had swallowed his absinthe 
at a gulp, looked at his neighbor with a crafty smile. 

“ Ah, there are some things it does not do to tell,” 
with a leer. “ Besides,” suspiciously, “ what interest 
can you have in asking ? ” 

“I will tell you in a moment,” said Balzare, “but 
first fill up your glass.” 


THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. Ill 

Picard, for it was he, called to his father, and the 
absinthe bottle was again set on to the table. He 
filled his glass again, and took a long draught before 
he set it down. 

“Now, what have you got to say?” he remarked 
in a more assured tone of voice, for the liquor had 
made him bold. 

“Only this,” said Balzare, “that you are on the 
brink of a great danger.” 

“ What do you mean ? ” with a start. 

“Night before last you came home in a very 
ragged condition, according to your father’s story, 
and you were unusually well supplied with money.” 

“ But it was given to me — I swear it ; and as for 
my being in rags, well, I had a scrimmage with a 
man who tried to rob me. There, you know every- 
thing, though it is none of your business.” 

“Perhaps not,” said the police officer, calmly; 
“but my interest in you is friendly. As I said 
before, I want to save you from a great danger.” 

“ And what is this danger of which you prate ? ” 

“You might perhaps fall into the hands of the 
police, and your explanation might not exculpate 
you.” 

“ Are you one of ’em ? ” asked Picard, fixing his 
eyes on the impassive face of the Inspector, who 
returned his glance frigidly. “ Why should I have 


112 THE SECRET OF THE MARIOHNETTES. 

any fear of the police when I have done nothing 
to be ashamed of?” 

“ I have no doubt you are innocent of any crime, 
but when circumstances are against one, it is hard 
to prove. As the law stands a suspected man is 
always believed to be guilty until he has proved 
himself innocent.” 

“ Mon Dieu ! for the life of me I cannot see at 
what you are driving ! ” 

“Perhaps not, but it is easily explained. The 
night you returned in rags — or, rather, the early 
morning — a great crime was committed at Mont- 
morency. Monsieur Carlton, the American, was 
murdered.” 

“ Then he must have done it ! ” muttered Picard 
in a half whisper, but the Inspector overheard 
him. 

“ Who do you refer to when you say that he must 
have done it ? ” 

The old craftiness lit up the dull eyes of the 
absinthe drinker. 

“Did I say that? Well, I meant the man that 
committed the crime.” 

“ Oh ! ” in a disappointed voice. 

“Well, you don’t suspect that I had a finger in 
this fight.” 

“ I don’t say so, but the police may think dif- 


THE SECBET OF THE MABIONNETTES. 113 

ferently . The assailant was a man — a young man — 
according to the witnesses, and you just answer the 
description. They will see that it was a strange 
coincidence that on the very night of the crime you 
came home bruised and ragged and with your 
pockets full of money.” 

“ But I didn’t do it — I didn’t do it,” repeated 
Picard, who was now thoroughly frightened. 

“ Perhaps not, but can you prove it ? They might 
make out a case against you, even as it is, because 
circumstances are against you. You are young 
to go to feed the insatiable appetite of Mother 
Guillotine.” 

Picard uttered a groan, and hid his face in his 
hands. 

“But how will the police hear of it?” he cried, 
lifting his ghastly face eagerly. “ To-night I shall 
slip away to Paris, and lie hid until the affair is 
over.” 

“ Ah, they would find you out, no matter where 
you were, and to run away would look suspicious ; 
it would be counted against you.” 

“Now, what do you advise me to do?” asked 
Picard, who, already unnerved by his long potation, 
was trembling like a wind-blown leaf. 

“First to have another drink,” said the police 

officer, pushing the bottle towards the young man’s 
8 




114 THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 

eager hand. “ Drink quickens the ideas and stirs 
up the sluggish brain.” 

Picard buried his nose in his glass. 

“Now then, mon brave , who was that man who 
gave you that money on the night of the murder? ” 

“ What man — who do you mean?” 

“ The man who gave you the money — with whom 
you fought.” 

“ Did I speak about him ? ” cried Picard, looking 
at the Inspector blankly. 

“ Assuredly, you did.” 

The young man pressed his forehead with a des- 
perate gesture, as if his head pained him. 

“ I don’t believe I said anything of the kind — you 
have been trying to pump me. You are from the 
police,” staring at his neighbor with a look of sullen 
fury. “ I will tell you nothing more.” 

“I know enough already to begin on; the rest I 
shall know before the night is over.” 

“You are a devil ! ” 

“ I thought you said I was a policeman ? ” smiled 
the Inspector. 

“ Peste! it is the same thing,” snarled Picard. 
“ Well, now that you know so much about me, I 
suppose you will send me to Mazas prison,” and his 
eyes roamed restlessly about the room, as if looking 
how he might escape. 


THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 115 


“You need not go to prison at all,” said Balzare 
soothingly, “ unless ” 

“Unless what?” taking the words out of his 
mouth. 

“ Unless you refuse to answer my questions, unless 
you stop repeating this canard that you have told 
your father, and tell me the unvarnished truth.” 

“ Oh ! I will, I will indeed ! ” cried Picard, again 
having recourse to the bottle. “What a pig to 
involve an innocent man in such a mess. It might 
have cost me my head,” with a shiver. “ Oh, this 
canaille! and he playing the virtuous all along. 
No one good enough for him to associate with.” 

“ Who are you talking about now ? ” asked 
Balzare. 

“ Parbleu ! you shall have the whole story. But 
you promise me that if I do you will keep the police 
away from me ? ” 

“ I promise readily. You will only be compelled 
to make your deposition and to hold yourself 
ready when the case comes up for trial.” 

“Very well, then you shall have the whole story 
in detail — not the one with which I fooled the pere , 
but the true version. It all amounts to this in a 
nutshell. On the night of the crime ” 

“ Just wait a moment until I get out my note- 
book,” said the Inspector. “I want to take down 


116 the secret of the marionnettes. 

your statement in full.” He took a blank-book and 
pencil out of the voluminous folds of his blouse — 

“ Now, go ahead,” he said. 

“ On the night of the crime,” said Picard, “ I was 
returning home with my skin full of liquor, after 
visiting some friends of mine on the outskirts of the 
town. As I arrived in sight of the villa No. 16, Rue 
des Acacias, I saw a man climbing over the wall. 
He stood for a moment in the moonlight, and I 
recognized him as an art student who had been in 
the same class with me at the Beaux Arts. 4 Ha ! ha ! ’ 
said I to myself, 4 now I shall find out where this 
monsieur so mysteriously spends his evenings,’ for 
he was always an incomprehensible person to us ; 
never joined in any of our sprees, holding himself 
aloof as if he thought us altogether beneath him. 
He must have been meditating on this crime all 
along, the canaille .” 

44 But his name ? ” asked the officer, writing rapidly 
in the book before him. 

44 Roland Dane, though I doubt very much if he 
came honestly by it.” 

44 Ah ! ” the policeman sighed. 

44 Well, it occurred tome that I would just watch 
this monsieur, and see what he was up to. Then, if 
he put on any airs with me afterwards, I should 
be able to turn the tables on him. Vous savez ? ” 


THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 117 

“Yes, I see; go on,” impatiently. 

“I watched him cross the garden, grasp the 
balcony, and swing himself up to the second floor.” 

“ Was there any light in the house? ” 

“Yes, in the room opening on the second balcony.” 

“ Could you see into the room ? ” 

“No, but I distinguished a white dress which I 
supposed belonged to Mademoiselle, the daugh- 
ter.” 

“ Ah, then, our premises were correct,” mur- 
mured the Inspector. 

“ What did you say ? ” 

“ Oh, nothing ; go on.” 

“Well, this Monsieur, having reached the second 
balcony, pushed open the door and entered.” 

“ How long was he there ? ” asked the police officer, 
sharply. 

“ It was at least half an hour before he came out. 
I couldn’t tell exactly, as I had no watch.” 

“He descended again to the balcony?” 

“No, he came out of the front door.” 

“ But you have not explained how you came to be 
in such a bruised and ragged condition.” 

“I was coming to that — give me time. When he 
reached the road, he discovered me watching him. 
He gave chase. I ran. He overtook me, and a 
struggle followed. I told him what I had seen, — I 


118 THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES . 

thought that love was the bottom of his adven- 
ture; that this young woman had given him a 
rendezvous.” 

“ What did he say to that ? ” 

“ He seemed very angry at first, but controlled 
himself. Then he told me he had entered the house 
to steal, and gave me forty francs as part of the 
plunder.” 

“Ah,” -said the Inspector, growing very thought- 
ful, “ this case is growing more complicated.” 

“You will not let the police harm me now?” 
asked Picard uneasily, as if he thought the Inspector 
was meditating some evil against him. 

“ No, have no fear. What you have told me is 
very important. You have cleared yourself, for I 
believe you have told the truth.” 

“May my body be burned if I have not ! ” said the 
absinthe drinker with vehemence. 

“One more question,” said Balzare. “Did you 
believe this young man when he told you that his 
mission in that house was to steal ? ” 

u Mafoi , it surprised me at first, but, as he was so 
earnest about it, I could not help believing; and, 
then why should he care to shoulder the responsi- 
bilities of a crime which he had not committed ? ” 

“ True,” said the officer, thoughtfully, drumming 
on the table with his long fingers. 


THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES . 119 

“ He was always mysterious, this American,” said 
Picard, pouring himself out another drink with a 
trembling hand. “I always thought there was 
something wrong with him. I tell you the way 
he scaled that balcony showed that he was not 
an amateur.” 

“Well,” said the Inspector, rising, “we shall 
soon know the whole truth about this strange 
matter. You have contributed some valuable clues, 
Monsieur ” 

“ Picard, Anatole Picard,” said the other. 

“Very well, Monsieur Picard. I have nothing 
more to say to you to-day. Let me know where you 
are, for we shall want you when the case comes up 
for trial.” 

“I will hold myself in readiness, honorable 
sir.” 

“ Good, and now I will bid you good-day.” 

The Inspector bowed ; and, without noticing the 
outstretched hand which Picard extended, he walked 
to the counter and paid his bill. 

“ A bright fellow, that son of yours,” he remarked 
to the innkeeper, as he received his change. “We 
have been having quite a chat together.” 

“Yes, a clever boy,” smiled the Pere Picard, 
whose rosy face was now radiant. “ He is so much 
like his poor sainted mother — a brave garpon , if 


• t . 




120 THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES . 

he would only let the absinthe bottle alone. Can 
I offer you a petit verve , camerade ? ” 

“ I don’t mind,” said the Inspector. 

Pere Picard poured out two tiny glasses of brandy. 

“ A votre sante /” cried the innkeeper, raising the 
drink to his lips. 

“ A la votre!” replied the police officer, doing the 
same. “Well, I must be going,” setting down his 
glass again. “ I have a farmer to see near Enghien 
about some cattle. Au revoir , Pere Picard.” 

“ Au revoir , monsieur.” 

The Inspector went out into the sun, humming a 
merry tune. His time had not been wasted. He 
had found, as he believed, a new clue, but one that 
opened up a host of possibilities. If this young 
man was wholly innocent — and the Inspector wished 
to believe that he was — why had he confessed that 
his mission in the house that night was for plunder ? 
The assassin had not committed the crime for 
gain, or why had he left so many valuable things 
behind him? They were right under his hand; 
he could easily have had time to slip them in his 
pockets. 

u I will go to the Rue des Acacias,” said Balzare, 
meditatively, “ and see if I can find out if any money 
was missing from the dead man’s room. Perhaps 
his daughter can tell me. She knows a great deal 



THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 121 


more about this case, I feel assured, than she cares 
to say.” 

Balzare walked on, wrapped in meditation, until 
the familiar villa came in sight. Crossing the lawn 
he walked up to the front door and rang the bell. 

The femme de chambre , Rosette, answered the call 
and stared in astonishment when she saw a burly 
peasant standing before her. 

“ I am Inspector Balzare of the secret police,” he 
said, smiling. “ I am masquerading for a purpose. 
Just tell your mistress that I should like to see her 
for a few moments.” 

“ I — I don’t think she will see anyone,” said the 
maid, still regarding him doubtfully. “ She is not 
very well to-day.” 

“ Oh, yes, she will. I will only detain her a few 
moments. Otherwise I shall be compelled to sum- 
mon her to appear before the chief.” 

This threat had its desired effect. Rosette went 
upstairs to apprise her mistress, wondering not a 
little if this coarse-looking peasant could indeed be 
the lank and grave gentleman who had interrogated 
her so politely the day before. 

It was a pretty room in which the Inspector 
found himself — a tiny salon furnished in white and 
gold, dainty as the boudoir of an empress. The 
etaglres were littered with costly souvenirs of 


122 THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES . 

travel, figures in brique and marble, and wonderful 
spun glass work from Yenice. He was examining 
these pretty trifles, when a sharp scream caused 
him to swing rapidly around on his heel. 

Rita Carlton was standing in the doorway, her 
white face contracted with fear. She leant droop- 
ingly against the door-post, as if suddenly overcome 
with weakness. 

“Have I frightened you?” cried the Inspector, 
rushing forward and assisting her to a seat near the 
window. “ I was wrong, perhaps, in coming here in 
disguise, but I happened to be in the neighborhood 
and had no time to make a change of costume.” 

“ It was only one of my foolish fancies,” she said, 
as the look of fright slowly faded from her face. 
“ I have been very weak and nervous since this — 
this terrible affair,” covering her eyes with her 
transparent hands, as if to shut out some disagree- 
able sight. 

“I know it, — I know it, my child. I should 
have been more considerate of your feelings,” said 
the Inspector soothingly. “Believe me, I should 
have spared you the pain of this interview, if it had 
not been very necessary.” 

“You — you reminded me in this costume of one 
I had seen before. Yes, it was on the day before — 
before the — this affair.” 


THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 123 



A sharp scream caused him to swing rapidly around on his heel. 



124 THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 

“ Indeed ! ” he said, very much interested. “ Tell 
me about it.” 

“ A man, dressed very much as you are now, was 
prowling about the road in front of the house. 
Once as I went into papa’s room I thought I saw 
a pair of fierce and cruel eyes glaring at me through 
the shutters. That was why I uttered such a scream 
when I saw you.” 

“Ah!” said the Inspector thoughtfully, tracing 
out a pattern on the carpet with his whip. “I 
wonder if that could have been the man we want — ” 
half aloud. 

“What did you say?” she asked. 

“I was just thinking that perhaps this person 
may have been — ” and he paused — “ the man whom 
we are searching for. Would you recognize him if 
you saw him again ? ” 

“ I hardly think so. I only noticed that he wore 
a blouse and blue pantaloons. He stooped more, 
and wore his hat pulled down over his eyes.” 

“And his movements were suspicious ? ” 

“ He slunk out of sight when he saw I was watch- 
ing him.” 

“ I should just like to have that individual under 
my hand now,” said the Inspector, thoughtfully. 
“ I believe he could throw some light on the case.” 
His eyes wandered across the room, and finally 


THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNHTTES. 125 

rested on the pale face of Rita. She was leaning 
hack in the chair, her face resting on one transpar- 
ent hand, lost in thought. 

“ Mademoiselle ! ” 

“Monsieur ! ” with a start. 

“ I think this mystery will never be cleared up, 
unless you deign to help us.” 

“ I help you ! But how can I ? ” She did not 
look directly at him, but seemed to be studying the 
objects on the centre-table. 

“ You have not told us all you know. Come, be 
frank. The life of this young man is in danger. 
Will you not save him ? ” 

“ As if it rested with me,” she said, a little irri- 
tably, while a flush, either of anger or shame, tinted 
her cheeks. 

“ You did not tell us the truth, when you said you 
had not seen him for five years.” 

“Monsieur!” half rising. “Is it your wish to 
insult me?” 

“Calm yourself, I meant nothing of the kind. 
But we have proved, on the evidence of an eye- 
witness, that the prisoner entered your room that 
night .” 

« Has he acknowledged ” she began. 

“ He has said nothing ; he refuses to speak. But 
I believe he is silent because he would rather suffer 


126 THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 

any punishment than that a stain should rest on 
your good name” 

Her face flushed guiltily. 

“This young man,” said the Inspector, “is in 
grave peril. They believe in the department that 
he is guilty ; and they have already collected 
enough evidence to convict him.” 

She covered her face with her hands, and a sob 
escaped her. 

“Oh, he must not die,” she murmured. “I am 
sure he is innocent.” She raised her face, and her 
eyes showed signs of tears. 

- “Inspector, I will tell you the truth; but you 
will keep it out of the papers — out of the courts ? ” 

“ If the real murderer is found, there is no reason 
why anyone should know about your connection 
with the affair.” 

“Very well, I will trust myself to your mercy. 
I did not tell the truth the other day at the inves- 
tigation. This sudden grief had so bewildered me 
that I hardly knew what I was saying.” 

“ Then he did visit you that night ? ” 

“Yes, but the rendezvous was not arranged 
beforehand. He stayed about ten minutes, and 
then went away. He chose to go down through the 
house, because the moonlight was so bright, and I 
feared he would be seen climbing down the bal- 


THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 127 


cony. That is all I had to do with this wretched 
affair.” 

“Hum!” said the Inspector. “You of course 
cannot know of anything that happened after he 
left you. He had time to go downstairs and com- 
mit the crime before he left the house.” 

“Ah, he could not be capable of such a thing. 
He is surely innocent.” 

“ That’s what I think ; but we must believe him 
guilty until we lay our hands on the real assassin.” 

“ Have you any clues to work on ? ” 

“ None, or at least very faint ones. Ah,” regret- 
fully, “ if I only had that man with the blouse here. 
I think he might aid us. But one more question, 
mademoiselle, and I am through with you for the 
present. Have you any reason for knowing whether 
your father had any money in his room that 
night ? ” 

“I know that he had not. He never kept any 
money in the house, and that very night at dinner 
he remarked to me jokingly, ‘ My dear, I must go- 
to Paris to-morrow and draw some money ; I am 
down to two francs.’ ” 

“ Ah, then, the young man must have made up 
that story about coming here to steal,” said the 
Inspector, half aloud. 

“ What do you mean ? ” asked Rita quickly. 


128 THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 

Belzare told her briefly of his interview with 
Picard. 

“And he did this to save me? He let this man 
go away, deeming him guilty of a crime ? ” 

“ Yes, there was no other way to shut the mouth 
of this babbler.” 

“ Oh, it was noble of him ? ” her eyes filling with 
tears. “ What must he think of me ? ” 

“I think it was very foolish of him,” said the 
Inspector, “ to fasten a rope around his own neck ; but 
then I never could understand these young lovers.” 

“ Oh, you will save him, will you not ? ” she said, 
clasping her hands imploringly. 

“ I will, if I can,” — doubtfully. “ But the chances 
look very black. If we only had some clue to the 
whereabouts of the man in the blouse ” — writing on 
the floor with his whip. “ He must be found, if this 
young man would be saved — that is certain.” 

“ Oh, Inspector, may I rely on you to do all you 
can to save him ? ” said Rita, her eyes again filling 
with tears. “ Believe me, the other day I was half 
mad with grief when I denied having seen him for 
five years.” 

“I can easily understand that,” said Balzare, 
“for it must have been a terrible shock to you. 
You have, after all, more heart, mademoiselle, than 
I gave you credit for.” 


THE SECRET OF THE MARION JSfETTES. 129 

“You know I am not poor,” she said quickly. 
“ If money can aid you, please command me. Spend 
money lavishly, only save him.” 

“ Ah, you still are not indifferent to this young 
man,” he said, looking at her a little curiously. 

She lowered her eyes. 

“You misunderstand me. I was to have been 
married to another in a few weeks. No, it is not 
that ; but I cannot forget that he loves me, and that 
once we were more than friends ; that but for me he 
might even now be at liberty. It must be terrible, 
the suspense — the thought that he may find an 
ignominious death — to lose his life for a crime which 
he never could have committed,” and her face again 
contracted with pain. 

“Yet he had reason to hate your father — to wish 
him out of the way. He had time to accomplish 
the crime after he left you — it was hastily done.” 

“ Oh, you don’t know the man ! He was incapa- 
ble of such infamy ; besides, he had nothing to gain. 
I had already told him that I was soon to become 
the wife of another.” 

“ I had not thought of that,” said the Inspector. 

“You are not losing your faith in his innocence ? ” 

“ No,” he replied slowly. 

“Oh, don’t, don’t, Inspector! Think what a 

burden your life would be, if you were haunted with 
9 


130 THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 

the thought that you had helped to destroy an 
innocent man. Summon up all your skill to save 
him ; set all the machinery of the police at work, 
and, believe me, you will find your reward.” 

“ I should be glad to believe so,” he said, thought- 
fully, “ for this young man interests me more than 
I care to say. But never have I been confronted 
with such a mass of evidence to overthrow. The 
law demands a victim in this case, and they will 
sacrifice him unless another scapegoat can be found. 
There is no time to be lost if I am to try to save 
him ; every day tightens the cord about his neck.” 
He rose as if to go. 

“I am working in the dark,” he said, a little 
sadly ; “ but, believe me, mademoiselle, if there is 
light I shall find it.” 

“ I am sure you will, Inspector,” clasping his 
hand warmly in her own; “and if I can assist 
you ” 

“ Tut ! tut ! my child ; — I am doing my duty, and 
am paid for it. An honest man needs no other 
reward than the consciousness of doing right. 
And now to work.” 

He took up his hat, and, bowing, left the room. 

Rita sat there for half an hour, with her face 
buried in her hands. It seemed to her that, if 
Roland was found guilty, his shadow would always 


THE SECRET OF THE MARION NETTES. 131 


darken her life and haunt her dreams, waking or 
sleeping. Wherever she looked she seemed to see 
his white, reproachful face turned towards her. 
She tried to comfort herself by thinking that she 
was not to blame for this terrible danger in which 
he stood ; but her conscience did not hold her guilt- 
less. He had fallen for love of her, and she could 
not forget that. 

She raised her face from her gloomy reverie and 
looked around the beautiful room with misty eyes 
filled with immeasurable grief. She felt that this 
house would never hold the old charm for her 
again. She wanted to get away from it, to flee from 
its haunting memories. As she sat there, a sudden 
fear oppressed her : she felt as if, somewhere in the 
house, at that moment, her father’s murderer must 
be lurking. He seemed to be coming down the 
stairs, with stealthy tread, as on that night ; the door 
opened and he entered. She heard his suppressed 
breathing close beside her; he was reaching out 
his claw-like hands to seize her. Then, overcome 
with a nameless dread, she rose and stared wildly 
about the room. A faint rattle of the shutters 
caused her to turn that way. Was it fancy, or did 
she really see a pair of cruel eyes peering at her 
through the slats? With a frightened scream she 
fled from the room. 


132 THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 


CHAPTER VII. 

THE FLIGHT FROM LA ROQUETTE. 

The highest point of the prison of La Roquette is 
vulgarly know as, le Tour du Ciel, or tower of 
heaven. It rises bare and gloomy above the mass 
of buildings below, scarred with smoke and shattered 
in parts with cannon shots. It was here that 
Roland Dane was incarcerated after his examination 
by the chief of police. 

From his narrow window he could look down on 
the red roofs below, and catch fleeting glimpses of 
villainous faces peering out from barred windows. 
Around him on all sides rose the hideous black 
walls that shut out the prison from the world. 

But seldom, if ever, now did he climb up to the 
window that commanded such a magnificent view 
of all Paris. He had sunk into a dull apathetic state, 
spending his days stretched out on the hard wooden 
bench that served for a bed, watching the spiders 
swinging to and fro on the ceiling from their aerial 
trapeze, or counting over and over again the bolts 
on the iron door of the cell. He had lost all hope. 


THE SECRET OF THE MARIO NNETTES. 133 

The case was clear against him. They did not — 
would not — believe him innocent in the police 
department. His fate seemed sealed. At sunset, 
when strange creeping shadows haunted the room, 
he saw the two black posts, and something that 
glittered with a sinister light between them, — and, 
beyond, the black outline of a great crowd. 

When he slept, he awoke from horrible dreams, 
screaming, covered with a cold perspiration, clutch- 
ing at his throat, with a sensation that some one 
was choking him to death. 

Yet death did not seem so terrible to him, now 
that he knew that Rita would never figure in the 
future of which he had dreamed of. But to die in 
that way ! to face a brutal crowd ! to die in shame, 
and leave his name a heritage of hate for all that 
should come after him, — that was horrible ! 

When he thought of this a terrible rage over- 
whelmed him. He cursed the woman he had loved 
— who had stood silent when his accusers were 
tightening the cord about his neck — cursed her for 
having brought this shame and ignominy upon him. 

It was a week after the murder. Sick in mind 
and body, he lay upon his cot with half-closed eyes. 
Some rats with sharp and wicked eyes were nibbling 
at his untasted food — a block of bread and a bowl 
of soup that lay on the floor. He was too weak to 


134 THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 


drive them away, had he cared to; besides, they 
were company — their antics diverted him. 

He was roused from a gloomy reverie by the 
sound of a key grating in the lock of the cell door. 
He did not rise, thinking that he had been sent for 



“ A lady to see you,” said the jailer. 


to appear again before the chief of police, to go 
through another interminable interrogation. 

“ A lady to see you,” said the jailer. 

Then he started upright on the bed — his heart 
filled with a wild hope. It was Marie. 






THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 135 

She advanced towards him with an eager step. 
Her pale face flushed a delicate rose as her eyes met 
his. 

“ Roland, mon pauvre garcon ! " was all she could 
say as she seated herself by his side and took his 
white thin hands in hers. 

He smiled faintly — such a ghost of a smile ! Her 
presence shamed him. She, at least, loved him, and 
had not deserted him. His eyes were misty with 
tears, when he spoke. 

* Dear, dear Marie ! ” he murmured. Then, turn- 
ing around, he saw that the jailer was still standing 
in the doorway, jingling his keys. 

“ Can we not be alone a few moments ? ” he asked, 
wistfully. 

“’Gainst orders,” growled that worthy. “You 
have five minutes, — make the most of it.” 

Roland sighed and turned again to Marie. 

“ Ah, it was kind in you to come ! ” he said, 
gently. “No one has been here — not one,” sadly. 
“ I thought you, too, had deserted me.” 

“You should have known me better than that,” 
reproachfully. “It was difficult for me to get 
permission to see you. There were so many people 
to visit, so much red tape ; and then I suppose they 
were afraid you might attempt to escape.” 

“ It would take the wings of a bird to escape from 


. , ; ' iJ. 


136 THE SEC BET OF THE MABIONNETTES . 

here,” he said, glaring up at the high window with 
a sigh. 

“ There are other means than wings,” she said in 
a low voice. 

He looked at her squarely in the eyes, — vaguely 
understanding that she meant to imply a hint. 

“ Come, now, no whispering, you two,” called out 
the jailor. 

They spoke in a louder voice now, fearing that he 
would again interrupt their conversation. 

“ Ah, my poor Roland,” she said, “ how you must 
have suffered ! Is there any hope ? ” 

“ None ! ” and his head sank on his breast. “ The 
evidence is clear ; they have found enough evidence 
to convict me. Even Inspector Balzare, who was 
friendly inclined, has lost courage. Nothing can 
save me unless the real murderer is found, and they 
have no clue whatever. I shall be sacrificed unless 
he is discovered.” 

“ Oh, it is terrible ! ” she sobbed. “ Roland, chere , 
it cannot be that you will die in this awful way. 
Something unforeseen will interpose. God is just ; 
he will not suffer an innocent man to perish for 
another’s sin. Have courage ! ” 

“My hopes are broken,” sadly. “I shall be 
almost glad when the end comes. The suspense is 
killing me slowly, by inches. Some day they will 


THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 137 

find out I am innocent — they will find the criminal 
— but I shall have been long dead.” 

“Ah, if it were possible for me to die for you,” 
stroking his hair with a trembling hand, “ I should 
go with a happy heart. Your life was so bright 
with promise, while mine has been w^orse than 
wasted. Why is God so cruel to let you die and let 
the worthless live ? ” 

“ His ways are inscrutable ! ” said Roland. “ Let 
me not question them. I little thought one short 
week ago that I should be standing on the brink of 
the dark river. But you will come and see me 
often,” he said warmly, looking yearningly into her 
face, — “ that is, until ” 

She laid her hand gently across his lips. 

“I am afraid they will not let me come again. 
It was only as a great favor that they let me come 
to-day.” 

He groaned aloud. His only friend, who had 
loved him so unselfishly and well, he should never 
see again. 

“I shall never see you again,” he murmured — 
“ never again.” 

She cast a quick glance around her. The jailer 
was leaning against the door-post, jingling his keys 
and singing. 




138 THE SECRET OF THE MARION NETTES. 

“ You can see me, if you will, again,” she said 
hastily, in another tone. “ Be free,” and she pressed 
something into his hand. 

“Eh, what are you giving the prisoner?” growled 
the man at the door, rushing forward and seizing 
Roland’s hand, just as he was drawing it away. 

“ Why, it is nothing, monsieur,” said Marie with 
a smile. “ Show it to him, Roland. It is only a five- 
franc piece, as you see. He might need it to buy 
some little luxuries with.” 

“ Oh, that’s it, eh ? ” said the jailer, now mollified. 
“ I thought, perhaps it was a file or a saw, though I 
don’t think anybody could get out of the Tour du 
Ciel, unless an angel came down from heaven — and 
angels don’t bother themselves much, I guess, about 
the prisoners of La Roquette. He handed the coin 
back to Roland, who put it in his pocket, hardly un- 
derstanding of what value it could be to a man who 
wished to escape. 

“How, then, mes enfants ,” cried the jailer, “time’s 
up. You have already had more than five minutes 
to bill and coo.” 

“ Just a moment more,” pleaded Marie. 

“ Like to oblige you ; but the rules, mademoiselle, 
they must be observed.” 

“ Good-bye,” said Roland, faintly, as if she were 
taking his life away with her. Then, as his arms 


THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 139 

reached out towards her, she stooped suddenly and 
kissed him. 

“ An revoir ,” she said earnestly, then, in a whisper, 
“ Freedom — the five-franc piece.” 

Not even the jailer heard those last words, though 
he was close at hand ; hut Roland heard, and, though 
he did not fully understand, he felt a sudden thrill 
of hope in his heart. She passed out with bowed 
head. The door clanked behind her. She was 
gone. 

As the last echo of her footsteps died away in 
the corridor, he fell, face downward, on his bed, and 
covered his face with his hands. For the first time 
in his life since he had known Marie he discovered 
how necessary she was to him. Why had he not 
stooped when he might to pick up this pearl at his 
feet, instead of braving the quicksands for that 
other gem that had only turned out a paltry bit of 
tinsel? This woman loved him patiently and 
devotedly; and, as he looked back over his brief 
and melancholy career in Paris, he could remember 
no moment of sorrow, no hour of despair, in which 
she had not been near him, to strengthen and advise 
him, to fill his troubled heart with the warm light 
of her sympathy. And now that it was too late, — 
now that he was trembling on the brink of the un- 
known abyss, he knew what he had lost ; and, over- 


t, ' : . ■ * : toils'' 




140 THE SECRET OF THE MARION NETTES. 

come with the hopelessness of his position, in agony 
of spirit, he cried aloud, and beat upon the walls 
with his weak and pitiful hands. 

At last, exhausted with the struggle, he fell 
asleep ; and even in his dreams the fair face of this 
girl shed over him a benediction of peace. But 
when sleep left his eyes and he found himself alone 
in his cell again — nearer than before to his dreadful 
end — the horror of his position seemed greater than 
before. 

She had hinted vaguely that they would meet 
again, when he was free. Had she meant beyond 
the grave ? But why that mystery about the five- 
franc piece ? — that could not buy his liberty from 
this dreadful place. He took the coin out of his 
pocket, and turned it over listlessly in his hands. 
It seemed fashioned like any other five-franc piece, — 
how could that buy his freedom ? In his despair he 
flung it down savagely on the floor. It gave forth 
no ring as it struck the stones, as coins usually do, 
only a dull click. He took it up again, and ex- 
amined it. Then, for the first time, he noticed a 
line faintly indented along the milling. He twisted 
the coin to and fro. It fell in half, and he uttered a 
cry of joy. The silver piece had been neatly hol- 
lowed out, and a screw thread made to make the 
halves fit together. In the centre lay several watch 


THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 141 


springs coiled up ; their edges had been filed with 
minute saw teeth. He hardly dared to breathe, 
overcome as he was with the discovery. That five- 
franc piece, so innocent-looking in its exterior, held 
the key to his liberty ! 

He went over to the door and looked through the 
bars, to assure himself that no one was lurking in 
the corridor ; then he returned and sat down on his 
bed again. 

Should he attempt to escape ? That would be 
like a confession of guilt. But even Inspector 
Balzare, who had believed him innocent, had given 
him little hope. He felt that he should like to be 
free again, if only a few hours. At the most, they 
could only bring him back. If the real murderer 
was found then he would be free. He had nothing 
to lose by attempting his freedom, and there was 
much to gain. Then, as he looked up at the window 
and thought of how high it was above the other 
buildings, and then the great wall to be reached 
that stood between him and liberty, his heart failed 
him. He might be dashed to pieces in the court- 
yard below, or be killed by a shot from one of the 
guards. But, on the other hand, he might safely 
reach the street. Surely the God who watched over 
the innocent would protect him, and once beyond 
the walls he felt that he should find Marie, who 


142 THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 

would hide him until that time when he could 
escape from the country, or the murderer should 
give himself up. 

Yes, assuredly, it was worth trying ; he would 
begin his work that very night. When the jailer 
returned with his supper he was surprised to find 
his prisoner singing and wearing a very cheerful 
countenance. 

His suspicions were aroused, and he made a 
thorough search through the apartment and of 
Roland personally ; but he only found the innocent 
looking five-franc piece. How the poor fellow 
trembled when the jailer found the coin, fearing 
that it would be taken from him ; but he got it back, 
and with a surly good-night his guardian went out, 
and he was once more alone with his dreams of 
liberty. 

The night set in with mist and rain, but an oc- 
casional flash of lightning revealed the outlines of 
the various buildings. Roland knew their position 
exactly, and could have found them in the blackest 
night. 

His first days in prison, before he had sunk into 
that apathetic state of despair, had been spent at 
the window, looking out on the roofs below him. 
He knew them all by heart ; he might even have 
been able to have made a fair estimate of their 


THE SECBET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 143 


dimensions ; every door and window was indelibly 
imprinted on his mind. 

So the night did not inspire him with fear, — in 
fact, the noise of the rain and the rattle of the 
thunder would protect his escape. He would be 
neither seen nor heard, unless the guards were un- 
usually vigilant ; and in such nights they generally 
sought some dry corner in which to stand on guard 
during their weary watches. 

Roland’s first work was to tear up his bed-clothing 
into strips, which he knotted and made into a rope, 
about twenty feet long. To do this he had to use 
his underclothes, but the result was a strong cord 
that would sustain a much heavier man than him- 
self. 

Pushing the bed over to the wall, he placed a 
chair on it and mounted to the window. Then he 
took out his little steel saws and began to work. 
The iron of the bars was old and rusty, and his tiny 
tools cut through them like old cheese. In a few 
hours he had severed two bars leaving space for him 
to squeeze through. It was now verging on mid- 
night when this first step towards liberty had been 
accomplished. He thrust his head through the 
opening, and looked down. It was still raining 
heavily without, but now and then, in a lull of the 
storm, he saw a glitter of a rifle barrel from the 


144 THE SECRET OF THE MARION NETTES. 

dark courtyard as the patrol went by. A gulf of 
eighty feet spread out below him ; would he ever 
reach the street without, alive ? On the right of him 
rose the next highest building of the prison to that 
in which he was living. It was a part of the old 
jail, and at present unoccupied. His scheme was to 
fasten his rope to the stumps of the bars he had 
removed, descend on the rope, oscillate it by push- 
ing with his feet against the wall until he swung 
to and fro like a pendulum, and then, when directly 
over the roof, to letjhimself fall. 

He would lose his rope, be compelled to leave it 
behind him, and the roof, slippery with the rain, 
might precipitate him into the courtyard below ; 
but those thoughts did not deter him. 

To the man who thinks to escape, dangers become 
trifles. A madness to gain liberty renders him 
oblivious to peril, changes iron bars into straws, 
and gulfs into simple ditches. If he wounds him- 
self, he seems to gather strength and fury to ac- 
complish his purpose. So it was with Eoland. 
Having examined his improvised rope in all its parts 
and tested the knots thoroughly, he tied one end to 
the stumps of the bars securely, and, forcing his 
body through the narrow opening, swung out over 
the abyss. 

It was so dark that nothing could be seen as he 


mm mm 


THE SECRET OF THE MARIONHETTES . 


145 



He swung out over the abyss 





146 THE SEC BET OF THE MABIONNETTES. 

swung to and fro from that dizzy height, and it was 
merciful it was so, for, if he had been able to look 
below, eighty feet, to where the guard was march- 
ing, in all probability, a sudden dizziness would have 
seized him, he would have fallen a shapeless mass on 
the stones of the courtyard. But he felt as secure 
as if he had been swinging in the orchard of his old 
home. The storm howled about his head, and the 
cool wet night wind sprent with rain cooled his 
heated brain and seemed to refresh and strengthen 
him. 

What if, in the dark, he should mistake his cal- 
culations and miss the building when he dropped. 
The thought occurred to him, but it did not terrify 
him. To die on the flagging was, after all, prefer- 
able to the miserable death that awaited him if he 
stayed in prison. What he feared most now, was 
that his rope would wear out from the friction 
against the stone coping of his window. At last, 
haying swung as far to the right as possible, with a 

muttered prayer on his lips, he let go his hold and 

% 

dropped. It seemed to him hours that he shot 
downward. Then he struck the slippery shingles 
on the roof and, unable to gain a hold, rolled down 
the incline to the gutter, where he was able to grasp 
a piece of lead pipe just as he was shooting into the 




THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 147 

It was some minutes before he found strength to 
rise and look about him. His hands were bleeding, 
his clothes torn, and there was a dull pain in his 
head ; but he breathed a sigh of relief as a flash of 
lightning revealed the melancholy Tour du Ciel tow- 
ering gloomily above him. He had taken the first 
step toward the door of liberty ! The falling rain 
beating heavily against him refreshed him and 
cooled his burning forehead. As soon as he was 
able, he crawled along the gutter on all-fours until 
he reached the extreme end of the building. 

Below him stretched the ruins of the old bath- 
house, and beyond, the encircling wall of the prison. 
Its nearest point was a tall chimney some fifteen 
feet beneath where he stood, and about eight feet 
away. He must reach that chimney if he would be 
saved. To fall would be certain death, — to stay 
where he was meant to be retaken. It must be 
nearly the hour when the guards were changed in 
the prison ; they would look into his cell, and the 
broken bars would tell them of his flight. He 
must get away from there, and quickly. 

It was a terrible leap to contemplate. He knew 
that certain death awaited him if he missed the 
chimney, but now, insane with the desire to be free, 
he thought little of the peril. 

Waiting until a bright flash of lightning illumined 




148 THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 

the scene distinctly, he leaped out into the abyss 
with outstretched hands : a ,thud, and a sharp shoot- 
ing pain in his shoulder followed. He had struck 
the chimney, but, before he could seize a hold, he 
fell, scraping the crumbling wall as he went down. 
He would be dashed to pieces on the stones — there 
was no help for it. He gave up all hope, and closed 
his eyes. 

“ Farewell, Marie ! God be with you ! ” he mur- 
mured. 

Suddenly his fall was arrested by a sudden 
jerk. His fall had been broken, he was spinning 
round in the air over the chasm : something had 
caught him up behind. It was his coat that, in his 
descent, became fastened to a projecting spike. 
Slowly, and with an effort that took all his strength, 
he dragged himself up on the wall that he had just 
missed from striking by a hair’s-breadth. When 
the lightning flashed again he saw that in leaping 
he had struck the chimney, then fallen, when that 
friendly spike projecting from the inner wall of the 
building had caught him up just in time. 

His heart grew warm with hope, for now liberty 
seemed very near. Surely some superhuman aid 
had intervened to save him from an awful death ! 
He thought of the terrible leap in the dark, and 
shuddered, wondering now how he had ever had 
the courage to attempt it. 


THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 149 

But he could not stay there long : at any moment 
the weather might clear up, and he would be dis- 
covered. He had no idea of the time, but it must 
be very near morning, and there was much more to 
he done before he was free. Free ! that word, like 
a star, seemed to make the dangerous path he must 
tread clear as day. He had no fear that he would 
not succeed. Crawling, on hands and knees around 
the wall, he reached, with great difficulty, the outer 
edge of the ruin that faced the encircling wall of 
the prison. He was fortunate in coming across a 
plank as he made his way painfully along, and this 
he carried with him. 

When he was directly opposite the street, he 
threw the plank across and crawled over it. The 
sight of the familiar street lamps seemed to warm 
and cheer him. He was cold no longer. But how 
could he descend ? The wall was slippery as glass, 
and offered no chance for foothold ; he would he 
dashed to pieces on the pavement if he attempted 
it. 

For a moment his courage failed him. He had no 
rope — nothing to aid him. The top of the wall was 
not more than ten inches wide, with two precipices — 
on the left and on the right. To go hack was 
impossible. He would surely he taken after his 
desperate attempt to escape, 


150 THE SECRET OF THE MARION NE TTES. 

As. he lay there, stretched out on the coping, the 
clock of the prison struck four. He shuddered. A 
few moments afterwards the noise that follows the 
discovery of an escape could be heard within. Doors 
were opening and shutting, grinding and grating 
on their hinges, the butts of muskets rattling in 
the guard-house, the hoarse cries of the jailer, all 
these sounds reached the frightened ears of the 
man on the wall. 

The firemen of the barracks had been called out ; 
he could see them climbing over the adjacent roofs 
with torches in their hats, while lights flashed forth 
from every window of the prison. To add to his 
terror, the rain had abated and the wind had changed 
around to the south — the presage of a change 
in the weather — yet he could do nothing but lie 
there and wait until they should discover him. To 
move in the dark on that slippery coping would 
hurl him into the abyss. In his rage at having 
gone so far out, to fail, he could have leaped down 
among his pursuers. All that bloody journey had 
been for nothing, — the hour of liberty was as 
distant as ever. 

“ Dead if I fall ; taken if I stay,” he said, with a 
shudder. 

Overcome with anguish, he suddenly saw below 
him in the street a figure gliding along the walls ; 


THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 151 

it was soon joined by a second, and then a third. 
They entered an enclosure directly below where 
Roland lay. This inclosure contained a ruined hut 
and the remains of a garden encircled by a board 
fence, half broken down. 

He could hear them talking as he lay there in the 
coping, and he listened with the desperate attention 
of a man who believes himself lost. 

It was evident that they had sought out this 
secluded place in order to be able to speak better at 
their ease, where there was no one to interrupt 
them. 

The first said : “ What is the good of us hanging 
around here ; if he had managed to escape he would 
be here. The alarm has been given; they have 
surely captured him.” 

“ They will run us in, too,” said another. “ Let 
us be gone before we are caught. I don’t believe 
Jackard had brains enough to find his way out. He’s 
stupid as a rabbit, that fellow.” 

“Let us wait a few moments,” said another. 
“We cheated him out of his swag in that last deal, 
so we owe him something — nothing is urgent. We 
can easily give the police the slip if they should try 
to take us.” 

The others grumbled, but agreed to wait. 

On the top of the wall Roland listened to their 


152 THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 

talk with a beating heart. It was evident that these 
three men below him were the friends of a criminal 
who intended to escape that night. Their man had 
not appeared, — why should he not use them to assist 
in his own escape ? It was too dark for them to see 
who he really was, from where they stood ; and, 
even if it had been broad daylight, they would have 
had trouble in identifying the poor wretch, half- 
clothed with bloody rags, on the top of the wall. 

Eoland no sooner thought of the plan than he 
began to act. 

Once below there, in the garden, he had no fear 
but that he would be able to escape, even if they 
discovered the mistake that they had made. Feel- 
ing along the wall with his hand, he dislodged a 
piece of plaster and let it fall into the group of men 
who were whispering together below him. They 
started back and looked up. They saw the man 
clinging to the coping. 

“Is that you, Jackard?” one asked, with a shrill 
w r histle to attract his attention. 

“ Yes,” he said. 

“ Wait, and we’ll get you out of it.” 

“ Make haste, or they will have me. They are 
crowding over the roof.” 

“ Never fear.” 

His voice was so hoarse that they would have had 


THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 153 


trouble in detecting that he was the wrong man. 
Besides the wind was howling and the confused 
noises and the tumult in the prison behind him con- 
cealed the deception. 

A flash of lightning revealed the fact that one of 
the men had produced a rope, with a piece of wood 
attached. This he fitted into a sort of cross-bow and 
sent it flying up over the wall. It fell directly over 
Roland, as he lay there. Feeling his way along the 
coping, he found a small hole, into which he thrust 
the stick of wood firmly ; then, taking hold of the 
rope that was fastened to it, he began to descend, 
hand over hand, down the face of the wall. 

Though he was bumped against the stones, and 
his hands were torn with holding the rope, it was a 
simple task compared to what he had already been 
through. In a few moments he was on the ground, 
and the three men had crowded around him. 

“ Bravo!” said one of their number. “I never 
gave you credit, Jackard, for such agility. How did 
you escape the gaffes (sentinels) ? 55 

“ Don’t talk him to death,” growled the other ; 
“ can’t you see that the poor devil is numbed with 
the cold and shaking like a jelly.” 

“ Let us get over to Mere Michel’s ; a hot brandy 
will set him on his feet. Look sharp now ; it would 
go hard with us if we were recaptured.” 




154 THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 

“ Why, where has he gone ? ” said another, look- 
ing around. 

M Where’s who gone ? ” 

“ Why, Jackard ! ” 

They peered at each other in the gloom, and 
hunted every corner of the garden — Jackard had 
disappeared ! 




THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 155 


CHAPTER VIII. 

OUTSIDE THE WALLS. 

Roland had profited by the darkness to slip 
through a hole in the fence ; but once in the street 
he crouched down and listened. He heard the three 
men within searching through the garden, and 
grumbling and swearing because they could not 
find him; yet he hesitated about leaving those 
sheltering shadows. It would soon be daylight, 
and he should be discovered by some passing 
policeman, — for the neighborhood must be full of 
them. He was faint from loss of blood and fatigue, 
— his head seemed to be the centre of a hundred 
burning pains; yet he dared not move from his 
hiding-place lest he should be found and dragged 
back to his cell. Perhaps, after all, it might have 
been better to have made friends with the ruffians 
within. There was, he knew, a certain freemasonry 
between criminals, and they were more accustomed 
to managing an escape than himself. 

He was in his prison-clothes, and would easily be 
recognized at daylight. He must procure some 


156 TEE SECRET OF TEE MARIONNETTES. 


others, or go back to prison. As he crouched there 
in the shadow, he heard the sound of footsteps on 
the pavement. There was a street lamp not far 
from where he stood, and he could see that the 
night-stroller was not a policeman, but a young 
man, stylishly dressed in an English ulster. He 
was holding an umbrella over his head, which was 
covered by a glistening silk hat. 

Another sound from the right caused Roland to 
look in that direction. It was the creaking of the 
garden gate that had attracted his attention. Those 
figures came through the opening so softly that 
they made not a sound on the pavement, and with 
one accord, they paused suddenly and stepped back 
as far as possible into the shadow. Koland could 
only interpret this action on their part in one way : 
they, too, had observed the young man coming 
along ; they were lying in ambush for him, in the 
hope of securing some booty. 

Roland felt along the fence, and discovered a 
loose board. If those cut-throats assaulted that 
young man he resolved to take a hand. The 
stranger advanced, humming a song to himself, but 
casting uneasy glances around him. It was evident 
that he did not know his way. He passed so close 
to where Roland was standing that he almost 
brushed the latter’s rags. 


THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 157 

“ Guard yourself ! Look out ! ” hissed Roland, in 
English. 

The young man started with a cry, lowered his 
umbrella, just in time to see the three ruffians 
rushing upon him. He jabbed one in the face with 



They were lying in ambush for him. 


his ferule, and the man slipped down with a howl of 
rage oi> the pavement; he had been evidently 
wounded in the eye. The others still advanced. 

He struck out now with his fist, but missed his 
man ; they clinched and rolled over on the pave- 
ment, with the young man on top. The other 
ruffian was close beside them now. Roland caught 



158 THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 

sight of a gleaming knife up-raised. The stranger’s 
life trembled in the balance ; a moment more and 
he would have been slain. That moment never 
came. Roland brought down the board with all 
his force on the murderer’s head : he fell with a 
moan on the pavement. The prostrate ruffian took 
advantage to break away from the strangling hold - 
the stranger had on his throat, and, once on his feet, 
he disappeared in the darkness. The young men 
did not try to follow him, but stood facing each 
other. 

“ Who are you ? ” asked the young stranger, peer- 
ing at Roland through the semi-gloom. 

“ It matters not what my name is,” added the 
other evasively. 

“ You speak English ; you are a fellow country- 
man of mine, by your accent. I must see you 
again.” 

“You will never see me again,” said Roland 
firmly. 

The stranger looked at him in astonishment. 

“ Man,” he said passionately, “ I want to do some- 
thing for you — you have saved my life, and I am 
not ungrateful. Tell me your name, I beg of you.” 
He cast an uneasy look around him, as if he dreaded 
still that his old assailants would return. 

“ Come into this side street,” said Roland, point- 


THE SECRET OF THE MARION NETTES. 159 

ing towards a black alley. u We can be seen here, 
and it is a dangerous neighborhood. Oh, you need 
not be afraid of me,” he added bitterly, as the 
young man drew back with a movement of distrust. 
“ Rest assured that I will not harm you.” 

“ Forgive me, I was wanting in gratitude towards 
you,” said the other apologetically. “Your voice 
has an honest ring. I trust you.” They walked 
on together towards the dark street. 

“ Why, you are in rags, you are bleeding, and 
you have lost your hat,” said the stranger, as they 
passed under the street lamp. “You must have 
had a bout with some of these footpads yourself,” 
peering at his companion curiously. 

“ Yes,” said Roland, “ I was just escaping from 
them when you came up.” 

They turned into the deserted street. 

“Now,” said the stranger, “to show you that I 
am not ungrateful, let me know what I can do for 
you ? ” 

“ Nothing,” replied Roland. 

“ Nonsense ! You do not look like a man who 
is not in need of anything. Come, I am rich, let 
me help you. You do not care for me to know your 
name. Very well, I will respect your silence; but 
you are in rags, and it is a cold night.” 

“ Yes, there is something you can do for me,” 


160 THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 

said Roland. “Get me another suit of clothes.” 

The stranger grew thoughtful. 

“ I live at the Grand Hotel. If you could wait 
here until I went there I could bring a suit back 
with me.” 

“ Impossible,” returned the other. “ The Grand 
Hotel is miles away. I could not stay here and wait. 
I must get out of the neighborhood. I am ashamed 
to be seen by daylight in these rags.” 

“ Ah, I know,” said the stranger quickly. “ Here 
is a way out of the difficulty : you shall take my 
ulster. It will cover you from head to foot. There 
is a travelling cap in the pocket, which you can put 
on your head.” 

“ But what will you do yourself ? ” asked Roland, 
overcome with joy at the prospect of getting a dis- 
guise so easily. 

“ Oh, I shall get along all right. You shall direct 
me where I can find a carriage ; I can drive home 
in comfort, and there will be an end of it.” 

“You are conferring a greater favor than you 
know,” said Roland gratefully, as the young man 
hastily took off his coat. “ If I have saved your 
life, we are now quits, for I think you have saved 
mine. I accept your offer with heartfelt thanks.” 

Once the coat was on his back he felt like a new 
man, and again his courage revived within him. 


THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 161 

The darkness in the streets was changing into a 
misty gray — the presage of the dawn. He was in 
a hurry now to leave the neighborhood and find a 
hiding-place. 

“ Now,” he said hastily to the stranger, “ if you 
will follow this street for four or five blocks, you 
will come upon a square, and there you will find a 
carriage to take you to your hotel.” 

“ I wish you would tell me your name,” added 
the other. 

“ Pardon me, but I have reasons for wishing to 
keep it a secret.” 

“ Very well, but there is no reason why I should 
not give you mine,” returned the stranger. “ Here,” 
thrusting a card into his hand, “ whenever you are 
in trouble where money will help you, write to me, 
and you will not find me ungrateful. Promise me 
that you will.” 

“ I promise,” said Poland, hardly heeding what 
his companion was saying, for a distant sound of 
footsteps had made him uneasy. 

“Good,” replied the young man, extending his 
hand. 

Ronald looked at it, hesitated, and then grasped 
it warmly in his own. 

“ Good-night,” he said. 

“ Good-night,” replied the stranger, walking 

11 


162 THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 

rapidly away in the direction that had been in- 
dicated. 

Roland stood for some moments looking after him, 
then the thought flashed over him that he was still 
in a dangerous locality, where he stood a chance of 
being retaken. Policemen must be moving about 
looking for the escaped prisoner ; and, though he 
was in disguise, they might stop him and ask him 
embarrassing questions, which he would be at a loss 
how to answer. 

He was very weary from his dangerous exploit, a 
numbness seemed to seize him, but he shook it off, 
and walked on, knowing that, if he stopped for a 
moment to rest, he should fall asleep. 

He followed the same street that the stranger had 
taken — keeping well in the shadow of the buildings. 
He advanced slowly, feeling his way along, for his 
limbs were shaking, and chills ran up and down his 
back. 

He was half an hour traveling two city blocks. 
Suddenly, as he crossed a narrow street, a shadow 
rose before him, while a voice cried from the gloom : 

“ Who goes there ? ” 

It was a policeman, he could tell by the broad 
shadow cast by the wide cloak. For a moment he 
stood still, hardly daring to breathe. 

“ Who goes there?” repeated the voice again — 
this time nearer. 


THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 163 

Then, hearing footsteps behind him and becom- 
ing deadly faint, he was ready to sink on the ground 
from terror or fatigue ; and the shadow still advanced, 
grew more distinct. He could see the silver badge 
on the policeman’s breast. 

Then, with a cry like a wounded animal, Roland 
broke away from the hands outstretched to seize 
him, dodged into the nearest alley at mad speed, 
turned to the right, then to the left, staggering, 
plunging on, with a buzzing sound in his ears, his 
head swaying from side to side like a drunken man. 
He heard the sound of shouting behind him ; it grew 
louder as if others had joined the pursuit. The 
cries started him to fresh effort. What he feared 
was that other policemen in front of him might hear 
it and cut off his escape. 

Fortunately, he was in an old part of Paris ; the 
streets were winding and tortuous, and dark even in 
the day time. He doubled constantly on his pur- 
suers, but the sound of footsteps still followed him. 

At last he could go no further. Every bit of 
breath had left his body ; he was choking ; his 
head seemed to be filled with leaden balls that rolled 
about horribly. He staggered on, reeling here 
and there unsteadily, while those terrible footsteps 
grew louder and louder as the pursuers came nearer. 
A red mist swam before his eyes ; he could no longer 


164 THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 

see where he was going. The houses danced gro- 
tesquely before him in the gray morning light. 

He reached out his hands to grasp a lamp-post to 
support himself, missed it, and fell, with a roaring 
sound in his ears, just as a hand was laid on his 
shoulder. 

He struggled to rise. He would fight. He would 
not go back while there were some life left in him. 
He tried to shake off that hand, but he was too 
weak. It clung to him, as if it had been nailed to 
his shoulder. 

“ Roland,” said a voice softly. 

He looked up, and laughed the laugh of a maniac. 

Marie was standing before him, looking at him 
with pitying eyes. 

She put her arms around him, and helped him 
over to the step of a house near by. He sank upon 
it with a moan, while she nursed him and soothed 
him as a mother might. 


THE SECRET OF THE MARION NETTES. 165 



CHAPTER IX. 


LOVE UNDER DIFFICULTIES. 

What happened after that Roland had only a 
vague idea : he had a consciousness of being half 
carried, half dragged, up a steep flight of stairs, 
and then lifted upon a bed. Then he relapsed into 
a state of unconsciousness, of dreamless oblivion. 

How long he lay in this condition he had not the 
faintest idea. When he opened his eyes the noon- 
day sun was shining brightly into the room. Marie, 
seated near the stove, where a pleasant fire was 
burning, was stirring something in an iron pot that 
gave forth an appetizing smell. As he moved rest- 
lessly, she looked around, and, seeing his eyes were 


166 THE SECRET OF THE MARION NETTES. 

open, came over to the bed and looked down at him 
for a moment silently. 

The poor girl looked wretched. Her features 
were drawn and contracted, her cheeks hollow, and 
her eyes so sunken that they resembled holes in her 
face ; but her thin lips wore a melancholy smile as 
her eyes met his own. 

44 How did I get here ? ” he murmured. 44 Those 
policemen were close behind me. Am I safe?” 
and his eyes roamed doubtfully about the room. 
44 Where am I ? ” 

44 Where they will have trouble in finding you,” 
said Marie gently ; 44 you are safe for the present. 
I took this room some days ago to provide a refuge 
for you if you should escape. All last night I spent 
in the neighborhood of the prison. You chose a 
different direction than I expected. I didn’t see 
you until you encountered that policeman and 
started to run away ; then I ran after you.” 

44 It must have been your footsteps that frightened 
me so,” he murmured ; 44 but go on with your story.” 

44 Well, you can imagine the rest — there is not 
much now to tell. I came up with you, just as you 
were sinking down, exhausted — and a pretty chase 
you led me — ” with a smile. 44 You were so weak 
that I had to drag you all the way here. Fortu- 


THE SEC BET OF THE MABIONNETTES. 167 


nately this room was near at hand, and, as the street 
was deserted, no one could have seen us.” 

“ Ah, you thought of everything, dear Marie,” he 
said gratefully, looking at her with so much tender- 
ness that a flush came into her pallid cheeks. 
“ How can I pay you hack for your kindness to a 
poor friendless vagabond ? ” 

“By getting well — by becoming your old self 
again,” said Marie. 

“ Ah, that can never be,” he replied sadly ; “ I 
shall always bear the stain of that dreadful accusa- 
tion — be forced to hide from the police like a hunted 
animal. No, no, Marie, my life is ruined, — there is 
little more for me to live for.” 

“Why do you talk so? You are young — you 
should care to live, if only that your name may be 
cleared, — and cleared it will be if there is justice in 
God. Here you can lie in hiding for a month if you 
will, and they must be sharp, indeed, if they find 
you out. After that, when the affair has subsided, 
we will find some means of getting you out of the 
country.” 

She looked down at the floor with a choking 
sound in her throat. 

If he noticed this sudden change in her, he said 
nothing. He was thinking selfishly of his future, 
and the promise of escape. He did not see that 


168 THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 

her heart was disturbed at the thought that he 
would soon be going away. 

“ Now, you must not talk any more than you can 
help for the present,” she said gently, arranging 
his pillow. “I must give you something to eat. 
This soup has been boiling all the morning, so it 
ought to be good.” 

She hustled oyer to the armoire , and brought out 
a bowl and spoon and a loaf of bread. In a mo- 
ment Roland found himself propped up in the 
bed, eating as only a famished man can. He did 
not lay down his spoon until the last drop of soup 
had been swallowed. Then he lay back on the 
pillow with a sigh of relief. 

“ Oh, how good that was,” he murmured ; “ I feel 
stronger already.” 

“You need nourishment more than anything 
else,” she said. “ But we shall have you all right 
in a few days, never fear.” 

“ Ah, when I look back on that terrible escape, 
I wonder that I am living to tell about it,” he said, 
with a shudder. “ It frightens me even to think 
of the many times I was near death.” 

“ Then don’t think about it,” she said smilingly, 
laying her hand across his lips. “ Remember only 
that you are safe now ; that all your dangers are 
over. “ Look towards the happy future.” 


THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 169 

“Ah, I wish I could believe that it would be 
happy,” he said dreamily; a but I have suffered so 
much, and passed through such awful perils, that 
I feel doubtful.” 

“ Hope will return with your health,” she said. 
“ You are worn out in mind and body. To-morrow 
you will feel strengthened and refreshed, and ready 
to look forward with a more cheerful heart.” 

“ I trust so,” he murmured. “ God knows I need 
a little more courage to face life again.” 

“ Tell me,” she said, “ how is it that I find you so 
well provided with money— -you certainly had none 
when you were arrested.” 

“ Money! what do you mean?” he asked doubt- 
fully. 

“ Why, in your coat — that overcoat that you were 
wearing. When I took it up to brush it, I found a 
pocket-book containing two hundred francs in one 
of the pockets.” 

“ He must have left it there by mistake,” said 
Roland under his breath. 

“Who’s he?” 

He related his adventure with the stranger. 

“ I must send that back to him ; I have no right 
to keep it.” 

“Why not? He left it there on purpose, no 
doubt, fearing to hurt your feelings if he offered it 


. 


170 THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 

to you openly. Two hundred francs is not much to 
give for a life. God knows I value my own at more 
than that, though it is so worthless.” 

“Nevertheless, I shall send it hack,” he said, 
firmly ; “ one does not do such things for money.” 

“But only think: you need this money — you 
must leave the country soon.” 

“ Forgive me,” he said, with a flush of shame, “ I 
was so selfish as to think only of my pride. It was 
you, Marie, who must have taken this room and 
paid for it out of your own savings. I have no 
business to hold such exalted sentiments at this 
crisis. I will keep this two hundred francs until 
such a time as I can return it. Keep the money 
yourself, and use it as you see fit.” 

“No, it is safer here,” she said, evasively; “you 
know how strange my father is, if he were to dis- 
cover that I had so much money, he would probably 
confiscate it. Of late he has been acting in the 
strangest manner : he eats nothing, but spends his 
time walking up and down the room, mumbling 
over his plays to himself. Why, do you know, the 
other night I heard a voice in his room, and, fearing 
something had happened to him, I got up and went 
in — you know there is only a curtain between us. 
What do you suppose I found him doing ? ” 

“ I haven’t the slightest idea.” 


THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 171 


“ He had dragged the theatre out into the middle 
of the room, and was making the puppets perform, 
shrieking out the lines at the top of his voice, and 
occasionally addressing an imaginary audience. I 
finally managed to get him back to bed, but it took 
me fully an hour, and there he lay raving until day- 
break.” 

“ Why, the poor man is surely mad ! ” 

“His brain is certainly affected. He is much 
worse than when you lived there. These attacks 
seem to come on him at night. In the daytime he 
is as sane as anybody — only a little eccentric, but 
as soon as the night gathers in, his eyes grow wild, 
he is filled with nervous energy, unable to sit quietly 
in the same place for five minutes at a time. He 
walks up and down the room, uttering incoherent 
speeches, calling upon people by name that I have 
never heard of before. His manners terrify me. I 
shall go to Dr. Charcot at Salpetriere, and see if 
nothing can be done for the poor brain.” 

u Is he ever unkind to you ? ” he asked quickly. 

“ No,” she said, looking away. “ But then, why 
should he be? I have only been a burden to him. 
I am not his daughter.” 

“ Not his daughter ? ” 

“ No, I supposed you knew that. My father was 
killed in the Franco-Prussian war. Pdre Bouleau 


172 the secret of the marionnettes. 

had been his companion in arms. I was left to his 
care. There were only a few hundred francs when 
my father’s debts had been paid, so P&re Bouleau 
has had to support me ever since. He called me his 
daughter, becaused it pleased him, but every one of 
his friends knew I was not.” 

“ Oh, I wish I could take you away from there, 
Marie,” said Roland, warmly ; “ I know you are not 
happy, and you so well deserve to be.” 

“ Hush ! I am as happy as I should be,” she said 
quickly. “I ought to be grateful to anyone who 
has taken care of me all these years — a poor orphan 
who is of no use to anybody. How many old men, 
think you, would have shouldered such an incubus 
— a girl, who can earn so little. Now if it had been 
a boy it might have been different.” 

“ I, for one, am glad you are not a boy,” he said 
with a smile; and before he quite knew what he 
was about, he had drawn her towards him and kissed 
her gently on the forehead. 

“Oh, you must not — you really must not,” she 
said, her face aflame. “ You should not make love 
to me, Monsieur Roland. Remember there is an- 
other one who has a prior claim on your kisses,” 
and she looked sadly away from him. 

“ Do not speak of her,” he said angrily, — “ all that 
is over. At least this terrible experience has opened 


THE SECRET OF THE MARION NETTES. 173 


my eyes. She might perhaps have sayed me with a 
word, hut she held her peace.” 

“Then you love her no longer?” asked Marie, 
while a flash of joy shone from her dark eyes. 

“ Love her, no ; I feel at times that I could hate 
her.” 

She left him, and walked over to the window, 
as if she thought he might hear how wildly her 
heart was beating, would see the happiness on 
her face. She stood there for a moment looking 
down on the scrubby little garden with its broken 
fountains and a rustic bench where an old man was 
sunning himself. She turned away with a sigh. 

“ I must be going,” she said. 

“You will leave me here all alone ?” he asked, 
half sadly. 

“ I must ; you forget the pere needs looking after ; 
I have not seen him since last night.” 

“Forgive me, I was thinking only of myself. 
Will he be harsh to you because you were away all 
night ? ” 

“ I hope not,” lowering her eyes ; “ I shall find 
some excuse. Besides, you have been so kind to 
me that I can bear anything now.” 

“ I, kind to you, my poor child, after you have 
gone through so much to save my life ? Ah, I would be 


174 THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 

kinder still if you would only let me.” He reached 
out his arms towards her. 

She felt that he was trembling, and walked 
quickly away towards the armoire. 

“ If you should happen to be hungry,” she said, 
wanting to change the subject, “ you will find some- 
thing here. It is not an elaborate bill of fare, but 
it will do until I come again.” 

“ And when will that be ? ” he asked anxiously. 

“ To-night. I cannot get away very well until 
the pere has gone to bed.” 

“ It will be a weary day for me until I see you 
again,” he sighed. 

“ I know it, but you must be patient. And do 
not attempt to go out, for policemen may be hover- 
ing about the neighborhood. It will be better for 
you, anyway, to spend a few days in rest. Here are 
some clothes you can put on,” she added, lifting a 
bundle off the chair. “It is an old suit of Pere 
Bouleau’s. It will not fit you perfectly, but will 
do for a disguise.” 

“ Marie, you have thought of everything — what 
a girl you are ! ” he said warmly. She flushed up, 
as if he had paid her the highest compliment. 

“I am glad you think well of me,” she said 
simply. “ Now, good-bye, Roland, it will only be 
for a few hours.” 


THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 175 

She held out her hand ; he drew it towards him 
and kissed it. 

“ I wish it was not necessary for you to go away 
at all,” he said earnestly. 

“Now, now,” she said warningly, shaking her 
finger at him, “what did I tell you?” Then she 
went out closing the door carefully behind her. 

After she had gone away, he got up and sat on 
the edge of the bed, thinking how vacant the dull 
little room seemed since she was no longer there. 
The old doubt and fear assailed him ; he thought 
of that terrible flight over the slippery roofs of 
La Roquette, the chase through the streets, and a 
shiver ran over him. 

Had he gone through so much only to be captured 
at last ? Would he not eventually be dragged back 
to that awful cell, ten times more loathesome to 
him now that he had tasted a little of the joys of 
liberty. But when he thought of Marie, who had 
gone through such suffering to save him, his heart 
grew stronger and his old courage revived. No man 
who was loved by such a woman had a right to give 
up the fight ; his life belonged to her, for she had 
saved it. 

He went and locked the door, and then opened 
the bundle of clothes that lay on the chair. There 
was an old pair of velveteen pantaloons, a blouse 


176 THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 



1 Now, now,” she said wamingly, shaking her finger at him. 


j-lci t 




THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 177 

much stained with paint, and a soft hat. They 
were seedy, hut just the thing for a disguise, and 
he proceeded to put them on. 

“ Why, I shall look exactly like Pere Bouleau,” he 
said with a laugh as he drew on the trousers. 
They were much too short for him, and the coat 
hung loosely like a sack from his shoulders ; hut the 
transformation was complete. With his wild eyes 
and ragged heard, no one would have recognized 
the neat, though poorly dressed, student of other 
days in this disreputable looking person, who might 
he a workman or an assassin. 

The old prison clothes Roland tore up into 
shreds and amused himself for the next hour by 
feeding the fire with the fragments. 

Then he went to the window and looked out ; hut 
the old man no longer sat in the sun. The sky had 
clouded over again, and the view of different clothes 
lines and chimney pots was far from cheering to 
a man in his mood. As he was turning away he 
paused a moment and bent his ear to listen. It 
seemed to him that some one was standing right 
outside his door. He looked hastily around the 
room for a weapon of defence, resolved, if it was a 
policeman, as he feared, he would make a fight 
before he was taken. 

There was nothing handy but a poker, hut it was 
12 


178 THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES . 

a heavy one and might prove a formidable weapon 
if lightly used. Then he took oh his shoes, and in 
his stocking feet slipped up to the door, unlocked 
it softly, and threw it open. He peered out into the 
corridor and looked around. No one was in sight. 
But as he stood there he thought he heard stealthy 
footsteps dying away in the gloom. He turned 
into the room again, locked the door, seating him- 
self moodily on the edge of the bed. 

“ This is terrible ! ” he murmured. “ What must 
a man suffer who is really guilty, when he is trying 
to escape. The fear of being retaken, and then the 
torture of his own conscience; fortunately mine 
is clear and does not trouble me. But I am getting 
nervous as an old woman. The slightest noise 
makes me tremble. It is an awful life to lead. If 
I have to stand it long I shall certainly grow mad. 
I shall never know perfect peace again until this 
still hunt is over. No, not until the real murderer 
is dead or — ” and his face grew dark — “ until I am 
dead myself.” 

His heart was faint ; he sat with brooding face, 
thinking of his dark and wayward destiny — won- 
dering what sin he or his father had committed 
that he should find himself in such grave peril. 

He was roused from his reverie by three sharp 
raps on the door. 




























TEE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES . 179 



He peered out into the corridor and looked around, 
























































180 THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 

He walked cautiously oyer to it and stopped and 
listened. 

“ Is that you, Marie,” he whispered. 

“ Yes.” 

He unlocked the door. She entered. 

“Why, what has happened? What has hap- 
pened ? ” he murmured, as she waved him faintly 
aside, tottered towards a chair, and, sinking into it, 
burst into tears. “Tell me, Marie — tell me,” he 
cried, kneeling at her feet. “Let me know the 
worst at once. Have you been followed here by 
the police ? ” and he cast a hunted, weary look about 
the room. 

“No, not that — not that. When I got home — ” 
but the words choked her, and she wept as if her 
heart would break. 

“Was it Pere Bouleau ? Did he ill-treat you ? ” 
he asked, vaguely understanding the meaning of 
her tone. “Let me know all about it, dear 
Marie.” 

“ I will,” she said, firmly forcing back a sob and 
drying her eyes. 

“ I went back to the house, as you know. I was 
afraid there would be a scene. It was terrible ! I 
found the pere walking up and down the room. 
His face was like a fiend’s. When he saw me he 
raved like a wild man. He called me the most in- 


THE SECRET OF THE MARION NETTES. 181 

suiting names; said I had disgraced him; that I 
had been gone all night ; that I was not alone.” 

“ How could he have learned this ? ” asked Roland 
fearfully. 

“ I do not know — he may have imagined it, or 
else — or else ” 

“ Or else what ? ” 

“That creature, Monsieur Felix, may have fol- 
lowed us and told him. You know he is capable of 
anything — that man. He hates you ; and now that 
he knows I will not marry him he would do anything 
to ruin us both.” 

“ Well, what more did Pere Bouleau say ? ” asked 
Roland gloomily. 

“ He told me to leave the house at once. He said 
I might go hack to my lover ” — again she hurst into 
tears. He let her cry, thinking that perhaps it 
might do her good. 

“Well,” he said, walking nervously up and down 
the apartment ; “ all this is unfortunate, hut there 
is no occasion to break our hearts over what has 
happened ? ” 

“ But I am sent adrift. I am thrown out in the 
streets, without a home, disgraced, ruined ! ” bury- 
ing her face in her hands. 

He looked at her a moment ; and then, drawing 
up a chair close to hers, he put his arm around her. 


182 the secret of the marionnettes. 

“No home,” he said softly; “make your home 
with me.” 

She rose and east off his hand with an angry ges- 
ture. Her eyes were flashing as she stood before him. 

“ Monsieur Roland, you don’t know what you are 
saying. Would you profit by my misfortune to in- 
sult me, because I am alone in the world and friend- 
less and defenceless ? ” 

He looked at her in a startled way. Then he 
understood her meaning. 

“ Do you think — could you believe,” he said, in a 
shaking voice, “ that I meant that ? ” sadly. 

It was her turn to be astonished now. The angry 
fire in her eyes died out ; they grew soft and tender. 
Her lips trembled — she made one step towards him, 
then paused and stared at him. 

“ You do not — you cannot me°n ” she began. 

He nodded his head slowly. 

“ That you want me ? ” 

“ That I want you, if you will — to share my broken 
life — to be my wife,” he said gently. 

“ Roland ! ” with a happy cry she threw her arms 
about his neck, laughing and weeping, overcome with 
this sudden joy that had come to her. 

So occupied were they with their new-found hap- 
piness that they did not hear the sound of stealthy 
retreating footsteps on the stairs. 


THE SECRET OF THE MARION NETTES. 183 


CHAPTER X. 

MARIE MAKES A NEW ACQUAINTANCE. 

The night had begun before they separated. They 
had forgotten all about time, as they chatted about 
the future. Only a short while ago everything had 
seemed black and gloomy and hopeless. He forgot 
that he was a hunted man, who might be retaken 
at any moment, and that a cell in La Roquette was 
waiting for its old guest. She put her past behind 
her ; her old home, the brutality of Pere Bouleau, 
were all forgotten in the new joy that had come to 
her. 

They chatted about the happy future like two 
light-hearted children who had never felt the scars 
of sorrow. They built dream castles fair as heaven, 
oblivious to the shadow that still darkened their 
lives. 

It was arranged that she should go and live with 
her old nurse ; that she should spend her days 
with him until such a time as his name would be 


184 THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 

cleared or he should find a chance to escape to 
America. His courage revived, through her cheer- 
ing words ; he was confident now that freedom was 
near at hand — there was no room for doubt in his 
happy heart. All he needed was a little love and 
sympathy to make him strong, and now he had both 
to cheer him on. 

“I must go now,” she said, as the bell in the 
neighboring tower struck seven. “ Keep up your 
courage, Roland, the time will not be long when we 
can face the world together.” 

“ I wish the time was here now,” he said sadly. 
“It would be hard, now that my life has become so 
dear to me, to lose it.” 

“ Be patient,” she said softly, “ the daybreak is 
at hand. Something tells me that your name will 
be cleared at last. We may yet live to bless these 
hours of peril that have brought us together.” 

“Yes,” he said. “Even death is less bitter to 
those who have loved and been loved.” 

“Don’t talk of death,” she said gently ; “put all 
such thoughts out of your mind. You are innocent, 
and you will triumph if there is a good God 
above. Think only of the future, of the hope it 
holds in store for you, when we shall be free to live 
and love before all the world. Good-night,” and 
she stooped and kissed his lips. 


THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 185 


“ Good-night, cherie ,” he said. 

And she went out into the gloomy corridor, while 
he sat down by the fire, trying to read in its 
ruddy blaze the problem of his clouded future. 

As for Marie, it seemed to her that life had never 
seemed so sweet before, as she made her way softly 
down the tortuous stairs. She had always known 
that he sympathized with her, that he felt a 
brotherly affection for her ; but, in her wildest 
dreams, she had never believed that she was des- 
tined to win his love. She believed him irrevocably 
bound to another ; and in her heart of hearts she 
blessed the misfortunes that had severed the ties 
she had believed to be everlasting. 

Only a few hours ago she had made her way 
painfully up those very stairs — a homeless outcast ; 
and now she went out with a song on her lips, 
hardly able to believe that this change in her life 
was not all a beautiful dream that would vanish 
with the morning sun. 

It was a dismal, deserted street into which she 
stepped, with its few faint lamps glimmering 
through the misty night, but love lighted her way, 
and she trod the slippery pavement with a firm foot 
and cheery heart. 

She was hardly out of sight of the house when 
she felt a hand suddenly laid on her shoulder. She 


186 THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 

shuddered at the touch, dreading to turn around, 
lest she should behold the familiar blue cape of a 
gendarme. 

Had she been tracked there, to his hiding-place ? 
She quivered from head to foot. 

“Who are you?” she asked huskily, without 
turning around. 

“You ought to know me,” said a man’s voice 
huskily, swinging her about with no gentle hand. 

They were under a street lamp now, face to face. 

She saw before her — Monsieur Felix. She hardly 
knew him at first, he was so much changed. She 
had always seen him expensively, though vulgarly, 
dressed; but to-night his clothes were dirty, his 
necktie straggled loosely over his vest, and his stiff 
hat looked as if it had been run over by the tramway . 

He had been drinking, too, for his gait was 
unsteady, and an unmistakable odor of alcohol 
surrounded him. 

“ Oh, you are not sure whether you know me or 
not, my night-bird,” he sneered. “Well, I am 
changed, — I know that myself, and do you know 
who’s to blame for it? do you know ?” gripping her 
fiercely by the arm. “Do you know?” thrusting 
his evil face close to hers. 

“ Let me go,” she said, tearing herself away — 
“ you hurt me.” 


THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 187 

“Yes, and I will hurt you more,” he growled 
sullenly, “unless we can come to an understanding.” 

She started with a nameless feeling of terror. 

“ Why should you wish to harm me ? ” she said, 
looking around her affrightedly. “What have I 
ever done to you, Monsieur Felix, that you should 
wish me ill.” 

“You’ve done nothing unless snub me; but he 
has,” significantly. 

“ Who do you mean ? ” with a chill in her heart. 

“Oh, you don’t know,” laughing maliciously. 
“ You’re a nice miss. Innocent, ain’t you ? Do you 
suppose I’ve spent all the afternoon in this cursed 
street for nothing ? When I heard from Pere Bou- 
leau that you had been out all night, and that on 
that night the young American had escaped from 
La'Roquette, I put two and two together, and I 
made four. Said I to myself, there is more than 
chance in this, for I knew you always had a sneak- 
ing regard for that beggar. Well, after you left 
your old home, I followed you, — I followed you to 
the house and up the stairs, and there I came upon 
the two love birds in their nest. Oh, it was beauti- 
ful to watch them ! ha ! ha ! ” and he laughed 
loudly. 

“In God’s name what do you mean to do?” she 
cried, clutching him by the arm, “what will you 




^ ftps/* 


188 THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 

do ? Denounce him ! Ah, that would be the act of 
a coward ! W e have not harmed you. Why do you 
hate us so ? ” 

“ I do not hate you,” he said, as he drew nearer 
to her. “ I hate him because he has come between 
us. But for him you might now be presiding at the 
comptoir of my charcuterie and his eyes flashed, 
as if he saw her already installed there. 

“ Man, you are mad,” she cried with a hitter laugh. 
“ Do you think I would ever marry you ? ” with a 
gesture of loathing. 

His face flushed even redder than it was. 

“ Ah, I was good enough for you in the old days, 
before this whining, white-faced painter won your 
heart ! You received me well ; you were glad 
enough to accept my invitations to go to the theatre, 
or for a day’s trip to Suresne,” with a sneer. 

“I went because I was forced to; because you 
were a friend of Pere Bouleau, and he would not 
allow me to refuse. He has cast me off now, I owe 
him no such allegiance, and I tell you to your face 
that I hate you,” — passionately. 

“ Indeed ! ” he said slowly — not at all disconcerted 
— “ and what if I tell you that I know a means of 
making you marry me. Oh, you need not scowl ; 
you may as well make up your mind that you are 



THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 189 

to be mine and accept the inevitable. It is only a 
question of time, when I shall own you.” 

“ Never,” she cried. 44 There is no law to force a 
woman to marry a man she detests.” 

“No?” he asked. “Well, we may be able to 
settle this between ourselves, without invoking 
the aid of the law,” meaningly. 

“ What do you mean?” she asked, overcome with 
the terror of a sudden thought. “ What do you 
mean ? ” 

“ Ah, I thought I should bring you to your senses, 
ma petite chatte . We are ready to talk reasonably, 
are we not ?” with a grin. “ Well, this is how the 
matter stands : you have your lover in hiding, and 
I have discovered the nest. What is to prevent me 
from going to the nearest police station and saying : 
4 Gentlemen, the other night a criminal escaped from 
La Roquette, I know where he is. Follow me and 
you shall take him.’ ” 

44 But you will not — you will not,” she cried, in 
an agony of terror. “Oh, Monsieur Felix, that 
would not be the act of a man, but the act of a 
coward, and you are not a coward — no, you are not, 
good Monsieur Felix!” still clinging to his arm, 
as if to hold him back, 44 you will not tell the 
police ! ” 


190 THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 

He looked at her flushed face and trembling lips 
and broke into a hoarse laugh. 

“ Ah, I thought I would tame you, if you would 
only give me time, little tiger. You said a moment 
ago that you loathed me ; but now that you know 
I hold his life in my hands I am the good Monsieur 
Felix — sweet Monsieur Felix. Well, you will find 
me all this if you consent to my proposals.” 

“ What are they ? 55 she asked, feeling very faint 
and weak. 

“ It is very simple. I will put the question to 
you bluntly, and you shall decide for yourself.” 

“ Go on,” putting out her hand to support herself 
by the lamp-post — half surmising what was coming. 

“You will consent to marry me in two weeks, — 



“ Or what ? ” she took the words out of his mouth 
in her eagerness to know his meaning. 

“Or he — ” with a jerk of his thumb towards the 
house she had just left — “ I shall give him up.” 

“ Coward! ” she hissed. “To betray a man who 
never harmed you, who was your friend.” 

“ Never mind all that ; in an affair of this kind 
one cannot be over-particular. All is fair in love 
and war, as they say. I must use the weapon that 
I find handy. There is no other way in which I 
can win you, and win you I shall,” gritting his 


THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 191 


teeth firmly together. “ Come,” as she stood there 
silently and made no effort to reply, “ you shall 
make up your mind now. Marry me, and the police 
shall know nothing about his hiding-place; nay, 
more, I will myself supply him with the means of 
escaping to his own country — speak.” 

“ Give me a moment — just a moment — to think it 
over,” she pleaded with downcast eyes. 

“ You shall have five minutes. I will smoke a 
cigarette while you are making up your mind,” he 
said, taking out some paper and tobacco. 

What was she to say to him ? She knew his vin- 
dictive nature too well not to believe that he would 
carry out his inf amous intentions. Roland would be 
surprised in the midst of his happy dreams by the 
entrance of the police, who would drag him back to 
the tower of La Roquette. No, that must not be, 
even if she sacrificed herself. She must choose be- 
tween two alternatives: lose herself or save him. 
As she glanced for a moment at the young ruffian be- 
fore her, puffing idly on his cigarette, all the prospec- 
tive horror of a life with such a man rose before her, 
and she shuddered. Yet to save Roland she would 
have accepted even that. She loved him as only a 
woman can who has never known sympathy in a 
long and weary life ; but his welfare was paramount 
— if one must be sacrificed, let her be the one. 


192 THE SECBET OF THE MABIONNETTES. 

But was there no alternative? must she marry 
this man to save the one she loved? she asked her- 
self. What guarantee could he give her that, even 
after she had consented, he would not betray Roland 
to the police ? She must have time to think it over 
— time to consult Roland. No ! she would not dare 
tell him of this meeting, for that would spoil every- 
thing. He would never permit her to sacrifice her- 
self to save him ; she knew just how he would act 
were she to tell him. He might even go and give 
himself up to spare her making a decision. No, 
decidedly, she must say nothing to him about this 
meeting. But she must gain time. He wotfld ask 
for his answer now; she must consent, and to- 
morrow she would see Roland — warn him that his 
hiding-place had been discovered, and they would 
leave their retreat, and go to some out-of-the-way 
corner of Paris. 

“Well, have you made up your mind?” asked 
Monsieur Felix, who had been watching her moodily 
for several minutes. “Your time is up,” he added, 
thrusting his watch back in his pocket. 

“Do you think that a marriage without love 
would be happy ? ” she began. 

“Oh, don’t worry yourself about that until we 
are tied together in a hard knot. These things 
will adjust themselves all right in time. Before a 


THE SECBET OF THE MABIONNETTES. 193 

year is out you will be head over heels in love with 
me, and will wonder how you could ever have said 
such sharp things to me as you have said to-night,” 
— laughing harshly. “Come now, speak out, ma 
lapine , what shall it be? Will you marry me, or 
shall your lover marry la Mere Guillotine ?” 

“If you will risk marrying a girl who does not 
love you.” 

“Ah, bother about that — you accept me ? ” 

“Yes,” — so faint that it was like a whisper. 

“Bravo!” he cried, throwing up his hat and 
catching it again. “ I always thought you were a 
sensible girl, Marie, and now I am sure of it. You 
are not doing badly for yourself, I assure you. Lots 
of girls in the Faubourg would be only too glad to 
accompany me to Monsieur le Maire. I might have 
had the pick of them. It is not every man who is 
willing to take a girl without a sou for dot , who has 
been cast off by her father for having spent the 
night out in company.” 

“ Monsieur ! ” she cried, flushing up at the mean- 
ing implied in his last words, “you are insulting.” 

“ There — there — I didn’t mean anything,” he 
said, trying to soften the harsh expression of his 
voice. “ I’m glad enough to get you any way — money 
or no. You’ll look like the Goddess of Liberty when 

you get on a black silk dress and are stationed be- 
13 


194 THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 


hind the comptoir of my charcuterie . I’ll pack 
that baggage Lizette oif to-morrow, in order to get 
the place ready for yon. Now then, Marie, we have 
not sealed this bargain as true lovers should,” and he 
drew his hand suggestively across his lips and made 
a step towards her. 

“ What do you mean ? ” she cried, starting back. 

“ What do I mean ? why, a kiss, to be sure, ma 
belle ; it is thus that lovers plight their troth.” 

“ Stand back,” she cried, thrusting him away. 
“ I do not belong to you yet, Monsieur Felix.” 

“Well, you are as good as won,” he said, “and 
we must seal the bargain,” reaching towards her to 
to take her in his arms. A sudden faintness over- 
came her — she felt his hot breath on her face. 

Suddenly something came between them. There 
was a sound of a heavy fall and a curse. She 
turned, and saw Monsieur Felix stretched on the 
pavement, struggling to rise. 

“Never mind that canaille” said a grave voice at 
her elbow. 

She turned and confronted a tall man, wearing a 
military cape, whose face, though stern and solemn, 
wore a friendly look. 

“Did you” — she gasped, looking at Monsieur 
Felix, who had now risen and was sullenly brushing 
his clothes. 







196 THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 

“Yes, I knocked him down,” said the stranger 
calmly, “ and I shall do it again if he gives me a 
reason.” 

“I shall have the law on yon for this, vieux 
rodeur ,” exclaimed the other, doubling up his fists, 
but making no attempt to start the attack. For, to 
tell the truth, Monsieur Felix was nob anxious to 
feel that bony fist on his face again. 

“Be careful the law does not get hold of you, my 
friend,” returned the stranger. 

“ That woman is my affianced wife. You have no 
right to interfere, whoever you are,” blurted out 
Monsieur Felix, who had a vague idea that he was 
addressing a superior. 

“ Never mind that — I saw the whole scene, and I 
am quite sure your attentions to mademoiselle were 
far from welcome. Now, begone ! ” 

Felix slunk away, but not before casting a look at 
Marie that filled her with terror. 

“ Remember your promise,” he called out threaten- 
ingly. 

She bowed her head in silence and he disappeared 
in the night. 

“ Come, my child,” said the stranger kindly, “ I 
will see you home, if you do not mind, for this is 
not the safest of neighborhoods. You might meet 
with another adventure like this, and where there 


THE SECBET OF THE MABIONNETTES. 197 

would be no old gentleman like myself to interfere. 
You are not afraid of me, my child,” as he noticed 
that she was trembling violently. 

“ Oh no, monsieur, no,” she protested. 

“ Is it true, then, that you have promised that 
ruffian — pardon me — that young man — to marry 
him ?” 

“ It is true, monsieur.” 

He looked at her long and steadily, until she 
turned away her face. 

“ That surprises me,” he said gently ; “ yet you 
were terrified when he wanted to kiss you. Lovers 
are not generally terrified at so small a thing.” 

“ Ah, I Late him — I hate him,” cried Marie, im- 
pulsively, almost ready to cry. 

“ And yet you have promised to marry him ! 
That is still more strange. My child,” he said, after 
a moment’s pause, “you will not deem me too 
curious, but am I right in thinking that you do 
not love this young man, that he has gained your 
consent by force ? ” 

She looked at the stern white face above her with • 
its kindly gray eyes steadily for a moment, and her 
tongue faltered. 

Where had she seen this man before ? why did 
she turn her eyes quickly aside with a tremor of 
terror ? 


198 THE SECRET OF TIIE MARION NETTES, 

“ Come,” said the stranger, “ I am an old man, 
and I am interested in you. Perhaps I can do you 
some service for the sake of your face, which re- 
minds me of some dear friend I had once — whom 
I lost,” and he brushed his hand across his eyes 
as if to dispel some grievous memory. “ I 
am not without some influence,” he added. “ If 
the thought of linking your fortunes with this 
young man are distasteful, I might bring some 
pressure to bear in this matter that would rid you 
of him forever.” 

“Ah, if you could! if you only could!” she 
murmured. “ But, no, it is impossible. I thank you 
for the interest you take in a poor friendless girl, 
monsieur ; but believe me, I must let things take 
their course — there is no other way out of it.” 

“ I am sorry you will not let me help you,” he 
said, half sadly, “ but I suppose you know 
best.” 

“ Tell me,” she said, anxious to change the sub- 
ject, “ about that friend of yours — of whom I remind 
you ” 

“Ah, it is a sad memory,” he said. “He was 
killed during the last war. He was dear to me as 
if we had been brothers. I have never found any 
one to take his place since.” 

“ The war is a bitter memory to me as well,” she 


THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 199 

said, “ for it was during that awful time that I lost 
my father.” 

“ Your father, do you say?” seizing her by the 
arm. “ What was his name ? ” 

“ Andre Clairon ” 

“ And you are indeed his daughter ? ” cried the 
stranger, looking down eagerly in her face. 

“ I am.” 

“Embrace me, my child. I am your father’s 
dearest friend. We both loved your mother, but 
Andre won her heart by his handsome face and 
brave heart. It was not strange that she should 
prefer him to an old fogy like myself. Now I know 
why I was attracted to you from the first — you 
are your mother’s own daughter. I knew that 
somewhere I had seen your face before. But tell 
me,” he added, “ were you not placed in charge of 
a guardian after your father’s death ? I heard some- 
thing of the kind after the war, and tried to find 
you, but all traces were lost in the troubled times 
that followed the Commune.” 

“ I had a guardian,” she said slowly, “ but now I 
am alone in the world.” 

“He is dead?” 

“No!” 

“ What, then ? ” 

“We have quarrelled, and I have left his house 


200 THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 

forever. Do not ask me to tell you the reason, 
monsieur,” earnestly. 

“ I will not, my child, I am sure, anyway, that you 
were not to blame ; but tell me, have you a home ? 
can you make your own living ? ” 

She hesitated. 

“ Oh, yes, I can earn enough to pay for my soup, 
thank you. And I have a home which, if it is not 
elegant, is quite good enough for an orphan without 
friends.” 

“Well, you must let me come and see you. You 
have lost your guardian — very well ; I will adopt 
you myself. It is little I can do now to show the 
love I bore your father. I am getting old ; I am 
privileged to retire in a few days, if I will. We 
can take a little house at Anteuil or some suburb 
near Paris. We will have a horse and a little gar- 
den, and you shall be my daughter. What do you 
say to that?” he asked eagerly. 

“It all sounds very beautiful,” she said sadly. 
“Like a dream, but I am afraid it cannot be 
realized.” 

“ Why not ? ” impatiently. 

“There are other ties that bind me to Paris,” 
bowing her head. 

“ What I do you mean because you have promised 
to marry that young scamp whom I just had the 


THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 201 


pleasure of knocking down ? I can dispose of him 
easily. He looks as if he had committed some 
crime — with that face. I shall find out what it is, 
and send him out of the city — where he can molest 
you no more. How will that do, my daughter ? ” 

She trembled with a vague apprehension at his 
last words. 

“Monsieur, who are you?” she asked suddenly 
wishing to end at once that feeling of suspense. 

“ Ah, I have not told you. How silly of me ! I 
am Inspector Balzare of the secret police.” 

She uttered a cry, and drew away from him with 
a shudder of terror. This was the Inspector who 
had led the search through Roland’s room, who had 
taken him away to prison. Did he recognize her 
again? Was his story about being her father’s 
friend a ruse to discover all she knew — to worm 
out of her the secret of Roland’s hiding-place? 

One glance at his face, however, assured her that 
his intentions were honest, unless he was skilfully 
playing a part. The thought that he had come 
upon her so near the place where her lover was 
hiding — that perhaps he had dogged her footsteps 
after she came out — all conspired to frighten her 
horribly. 

He saw that she was greatly moved, and looked 
at her curiously. 


202 THE SECBET OF THE MABIONNETTES. 

“Why, you have no reason to fear the police, 
surely,” he said smiling. “ I am afraid, my poor 
child, that your nerves are unsettled after that en- 
counter with Monsieur Felix. A good night’s rest 
will set you up, and then we can talk about the 
future and come to a clearer understanding. Your 
eyes look worn and weary, and you are trembling 
all over. Come, give me your hand, my child. I 
will see you as far as your home.” 

But she drew back reluctantly, and would not 
take his hand. 

“No, no, monsieur, pardon me. I am used to 
being out late at night — I will not trouble you.” 

“ But it is no trouble at all, I assure you,” he 
urged. “It is not safe for you to be wandering 
about these deserted streets at such a late hour of 
the night. Where do you live ? I will call a car- 
riage, for you look too tired to walk,” and he looked 
around eagerly to see if any cab happened to be in 
sight. 

“I beg you will not,” she cried, seizing his arm. 
“ Monsieur, I know you are kind — that your motives 
are honest in wishing to be of service to me, but 
we must separate here.” 

“ What ! ” he exclaimed, at once surprised and 
pained. “ You will at least let me know where you 
live ? ” 


THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 208 

“ I cannot,” she murmured, bowing her head. 

The inspector frowned, but as he saw the anguish 
in her face his own grew more kindly in its expres- 
sion. 

“You puzzle me,” he said. “I don’t altogether 
know what to make of you. You do not dislike 
me. The sight of me is not repugnant to you?” 

“ Oh no, monsieur — no,” she cried warmly. “ Do 
not misunderstand me or believe that I am ungrate- 
ful. I know you are only actuated by the kindest 
motives. But I ask you as a favor to let me go 
my way alone and not to attempt to find out where 
I live.” 

“ I am sorry,” he said, “ very sorry that you will 
not let me be of service to you. Ah, if you would 
only confide in me I might help you out. You are 
in trouble — you need a friend. Tell me every- 
thing.” 

“I cannot, I cannot,” she murmured brokenly. 
“ Do not ask me. Some day I may, but not now. 
Spare me, monsieur ; you see how I suffer.” 

“Very well,” he said sadly. “I will not force 
your confidence. Keep your secret. But remember 
that if you ever need help Inspector Balzare will 
be ready to do you service.” 

“ I believe it,” clasping his hand warmly in her 
own. “ Believe me, I am grateful ; but I must keep 


204 THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES . 

my secret for the present — Good-bye, dear friend ! ” 
and she turned away and was gone. 

Inspector Balzare leaned on his cane and peered 
into the shadow that had swallowed her up. 

“ I shall not lose sight of her,” he said thought- 
fully. “ Poor girl, how she started when I told her 
my name — that I belonged to the police ; yet she 
could have no reason to fear them — she is incapable 
of crime. But there may be another — someone that 
she is trying to shield, hence all this mystery. 
Could it be! could it be!” he murmured, and 
walked away swinging moodily his cane. 


THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 205 


CHAPTER XI. 

A WALK AND ITS CONSEQUENCES. 

Roland spent a restless night. More than ever 
now did he wish to escape, for he had so much to 
live for. The happiness of two people now depended 
on his eluding the police and getting out of their 
reach. 

The difficulties that lay in his way tormented him 
all night ; and even the bright dreams and card cas- 
tles he had built that evening with Marie did not 
lull him into a feeling of security. At any moment 
this asylum of refuge might be discovered. He 
grew frightened every time he heard a step in the 
hall; when the door creaked he thought a gen- 
darme was at the back of it, forcing it open, and 
that presently he would be summoned to surrender. 

He rose at ten o’clock, listless and enervated, and 
prepared himself some coffee, which he drank with 
a slice of dry bread. When eleven o’clock came 
and Marie did not appear he became alarmed. Per- 
haps she was ill, perhaps she had been arrested by 


206 THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES . 

the police on suspicion of knowing his hiding place, 
and had been taken to headquarters to be examined. 
He felt helpless as a child without her counsel — at a 
loss how to act, what step to take, now that she was 
no longer here to advise him. 

The clock struck twelve. For the past hour he 
had been walking up and down the room in an 
agony of suspense. He felt like a caged animal. 
He wanted to be out doors, where at least there 
would be room for flight in case the police were on 
his track. Here he would be trapped, unable to 
escape. The door was the only outlet ; the window 
opened on an abyss fully sixty feet deep. To attempt 
to save himself by the window would be suicidal. 
He decided to go out. No one would recognize him 
in his new garb, and he could pull the felt hat down 
over his eyes. Besides, he was hungry to have a 
smoke, and tobacco was the one thing that Marie 
had forgotten to provide. 

He dressed himself with feverish haste and went 
out. He did not lock the door, fearing that she 
might return while he was gone. The corridor was 
empty when he entered it. He passed down the 
stairs softly and peered into the street, — no one 
in sight. He stepped out. Oh, how refreshing it 
was to feel the cold breeze on his cheek— to drink in 
great draughts of the delicious air — the free air of 


THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 207 

heaven. It seemed to stir his blood and warm his 
heart, as he made his way slowly along the pave- 
ment, keeping a sharp lookout for the familiar and 
dreaded blue-coats. 

He stopped at a Bureau de Tabac on the corner, 
and provided himself with a paper of cheap tobacco 
and a pipe. He would have preferred a cigar ; but 
for a peasant to have been seen smoking a weed 
would have attracted attention, and he knew that he 
must be cautious. Lighting his pipe, he idled on, 
enjoying the delicious day. 

Having proceeded some distance, and having met 
some people, who hardly glanced at him, he became 
confident and hopeful again. Evidently his costume 
had not seemed incongruous, as they had devoted 
no attention to him, and his assurance in his safety 
rose in proportion. 

But he did not care to stroll very far from the 
house, for fear he should miss Marie if she returned. 
And then it would prove a refuge in case he should 
excite the suspicion of a gendarme and be pursued. 

A few blocks further, and Roland came upon a 
tiny park, surrounded by a stucco wall covered with 
mould. He peeped in through the iron gate and, 
finding it was only occupied by a few old men who 
were sunning themselves on the benches, he went in. 

A little fountain was bubbling merrily in the cen- 




208 THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 

tre of a heart-shaped grass plot. He sat down close 
by it and fell into a reverie. 

It would be profitless for us to know what he was 
thinking about. His thoughts turned always now 
to the same subject — his escape. One moment he 
was cheered by the thought that he would succeed, 
and at another he was torn with doubts. The re- 
sult of discussing his chances and possibilities with 
himself left him just where he had started — if pos- 
sible more miserable than before. 

He started out of his brown-study on hearing a 
crunching sound on the gravel — all sounds startled 
him now. He looked on every one with suspicion. 
It was only one of the old men who, tired from sit- 
ting down, was walking by him, folding up a greasy 
newspaper as he went. 

This old man was still hale and well preserved, 
and carried himself with military dignity. Roland 
found himself studying this person carefully from 
beneath the shadow of his hat brim, which projected 
over his eyes. 

Was it fancy or his own foolish fears that made 
him think that this patriarch — for all his abstracted 
and absent-minded air — was looking at him with 
more than curiosity out of the corner of his eye ? 

When the stranger was directly abreast of the 
bench on which Roland was seated he paused. 


THE SECRET OF THE MARION NETTES. 209 

« Now what does that old devil find peculiar 
about me? ” the young man asked himself uneasily. 
“ Does he fancy he knows me ? ” 

For the gray eyes of the old man were bent 
earnestly upon him, for a moment. Then he came 
close, and said pleasantly, 

“Monsieur Grondar, I believe?” 

“ The old fool,” murmured Roland angrily, “ he 
takes me for some one he knows ; I suppose I must 
answer him .” 

Disguising his voice as best he could, without look- 
ing up, he replied : 

“Pardon me — don’t know you. My name is 
Bellac.” 

“ Oh, pardon me ! ” said the stranger, doffing his 
hat with a courtly bow ; “ I mistook you for a 
friend of mine. Pardon me ! ” and he replaced his 
hat on his head and turned away. “ Bellac — 
Bellac,” he was heard murmuring. “A pretty 
name that — a very pretty name.” 

He walked over towards the wall, and, turning, 
looked again at Roland. 

“ Could it be,” murmured the latter, “ that this 
old fellow is a police spy. They employ all sorts 
of characters. Pshaw ! he don’t look as if he could 
catch a cat.” 

But the old man continued to stare at him 
14 


210 THE SECBET OF THE MABIONNETTES. 

furtively, until Roland could no longer endure it. 

“ I’ll go over to him, and give him a piece of my 
mind,” he said very angrily. “ I don’t care what 
the consequences are. They ought to lock up the old 
lunatic.” 

As he approached the stranger, the old man 
bowed gravely and, opening a gate in the wall that 
Roland had not seen, suddenly disappeared. 

“Well, you just took yourself off in time,” mut- 
tered the young man, not at all sorry he had been 
spared the encounter. “ Hello, what this ?” What 
he saw was some writing on the wall. It had been 
scratched with a nail in the mould, cutting through 
to the white mortar beneath. There were only 
three words, but they sent a thrill of terror to his 
heart. 

“ Leave this place ! ” 

He looked around him in affright — was that a 
warning? — yes, surely! 

The mortar was still fresh where it had been cut. 
The words stood out with glaring distinctness in 
the black surface of the wall. 

He had been staring at that particular spot only 
a few moment ago, and he had not noticed it. The 
old man must have scratched it there ; there was 
no one else near by who could have done it. 

He tried to think of all his friends in Paris who 


THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 211 


could have been interested in saving his life. But 
these friends were young, and this man’s face was 
unfamiliar to him. 

“ Never mind,” he said to himself, “this must 
have been meant as a warning to me. I should be a 
fool if I did not heed it.” 

He glanced hastily around the park. Then he 
saw a small blue object that seemed to be gliding 
along the edge of the lower wall — then, another and 
another ; he counted three. They were the blue 
caps of the police; he could see the two silver 
letters on each one glistening in the sun. 

The warning had just come in time. As he 
slipped through the gate where a moment ago his 
unknown benefactor had disappeared, four gen- 
darmes entered the park from the lower gate. By 
the time they had reached the enclosure he was far 
away. He went back to his den by a circuitous 
route, coming into the street where his lodgings 
were situated from below. 

He hurried up the stairs with feverish haste, 
almost running into some one in the landing who 
was coming down. 

“ Roland,” whispered a voice. It was Marie. 

“You.” They said no more, but went back softly 
to the room together. 

“ What has happened? ” she asked tearfully, 


212 THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES . 

after they had closed the door behind them. “ You 
look as if you had seen a ghost.” 

“ I wish it was only a ghost that I had seen,” 
he said wearily, flinging himself into a chair. 
“Unfortunately, the spectres that frightened me 
were very material, and wore blue cloaks and 
peaked caps.” 

“You have had an encounter with the police?” 
she gasped. 

“Not exactly. They were after me, but they 
arrived too- late. I had a warning from an un- 
known source ; ” and he proceeded to tell her his 
adventure with the old stranger in the park. 

“ That is all very strange,” she said thoughtfully, 
“ and you say you have never met this man before ? ” 

“Never in my life ; he was a perfect stranger.” 

“ Could it be — ” she said to herself ; “ no, that is 
not to be supposed for a moment. Well, anyway,” 
speaking aloud, “it is enough to know that this 
stranger, whoever he may be, has done you a good 
turn — perhaps saved your life. But how imprudent 
of you to go into the street in broad daylight ! You 
have no idea of my fright when I arrived here and 
found you had gone away. I thought of everything ; 
I thought that you had been retaken. Why did 
you do it ? ” sadly. 

“Well, it was dangerous ; but I expected you all 


TEE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 213 

the morning. I thought perhaps you had been 
arrested on suspicion of knowing my whereabouts, 
and I could not stay here in the room caged like a 
tame bear.” 

“ I was late, because I, too, had a warning last 
night. 

“ You ! ” 

“Yes ; and this morning I have taken a room in 
another part of the city. We must remove there 
to-night. It is in old Paris — a quarter where you 
are less liable to meet anyone who knows you. ” 

“ Who warned you ? ” he asked. 

“ I was returning home last night, when a young 
ruffian assaulted me ; a stranger came to my rescue, 
and knocked the man down ; then the old man he 
wanted to see me home.” 

“Ah,” said Roland, looking at her sharply, 
“wanted to see you home, eh?” 

“ Oh, you need not be at all jealous of him,” said 
Marie with a feeble smile. “ He was old enough to 
be my grandfather.” 

“ But you did not let him know where you lived ? ” 
Roland asked anxiously. 

“ No, I did not.” 

He gave a sigh of relief. 

“I found out that he was connected with the 
police, and at first I fancied that he had been follow- 


214 THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 

ing me with a view to finding out where you were 
hiding ; but such was not the case. His interest in 
me was purely friendly. I firmly refused to tell 
him where I lived, and he was too much of a gentle- 
man to urge the matter. We separated the best of 
friends, and he went his way and I went mine.” 

“ You did well. Yes, we must move to-night, or 
as soon as it is dark. Ah, when will this awful 
chase be at an end! When shall I know peace 
again ; be able to cast off this terror that fills me 
every time I hear a sound in the hall or a voice on 
the stairs. Sometimes I almost feel like surrender- 
ing myself rather than endure this hunted feeling 
that gives me no rest by night or day.” And his head 
fell on his breast and a weary sigh escaped his lips. 

“ Courage, Roland ! ” said Marie, laying her hand 
tenderly on his bowed head. “We shall soon be 
through the dark and meet the dawn of peace. 
Have patience — your trials will soon be over.” 

“ I wish I could think so,” he said ; but neverthe- 
less her words cheered him; — he could not feel 
wholly miserable when she was with him ; her very 
presence was inspiriting. 

“But you must be hungry,” she said quickly. 
“Have you eaten anything to-day ?” 

“ Only a cup of coffee and a piece of bread,” he 
said. 


-/• - ; v ' : - " 4 ' - W* y ' • ' 



THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 215 

“Oh, that will not do — you must have a good 
solid dinner to strengthen you, for we do not know 
what work we may have before us to-night. 
Look here ! — ” opening the bundle she carried, on 
the table — “ we shall have quite a spread. Here is 
a jambon d? York, some ham and veal pies and a 
terrine de foie gras. Sit down and eat, my friend, 
while I am making the coffee.” 

In truth, his walk had given him an appetite, and 
he attacked the food with hungry zest, almost for- 
getting for the time being his perilous position. He 
made a very good meal, washed down by a cup of 
coffee that was strong and thick as beer, but which 
braced him immensely. And when he had lit his 
pipe and stretched out his feet on a chair, while he 
leaned back in another, his face wore such an 
expression of perfect peace and contentment, that 
you would never have imagined him to be an 
escaped criminal who was still living in the shadow 
of the scaffold. 

“ Ah, now this is something like ! ” he murmured, 
drawing lazily on his pipe and following Marie’s 
trim figure as she bustled about the room. “ If I 
was only out of danger I should be perfectly happy. 
I declare I am getting to feel quite at home here. 
What a pity it is that we have to move.” 

“We have no other choice,” said Marie. “ The idea 


216 THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES . 

is to move about as much as possible, if you wish to 
escape the police, who are everywhere. That’s what 
I have been told. You must leave this suit behind 
you here — burn it up. I have brought you another 
one.” 

“ One might think that you were an old hand at 
this sort of business; that you had been helping 
people to escape from prison all your life,” with a 
smile. “ Where did you get your information, if I 
may ask ?” 

“ From old Gregoire.” 

“Gregoire — who’s he?” 

“ Don’t you remember that old cobbler that had a 
stall at the corner of the Rue des Roceurs — not far 
from where you lived ? ” 

“ Oh, yes, I remember him well, and, if I mistake 
not, I still owe him three francs for half soling my 
boots.” 

“Well, he has served his time, that man, though 
I believe he is honest enough now. It was he who 
made that five-franc piece for me that was the 
means of you making your escape.” 

“God bless him for it!” cried Roland warmly. 
“ If I ever have any means again he shall make all 
my boots at gold-plated prices. But it will be time 
enough to think of repaying him when I am out of 
this predicament. Only to think that the very day 




THE SECBET OF THE MABIONNETTES. 217 

before I was mad enough to visit Montmorency I 
had a call from Toussaint, the picture-dealer. He 
never honored my studio with his presence before. 
He bought some old studies that I had been tempted 
often to throw away. That showed that I must be 
beginning to find favor, for he never buys anything 
unless there is a demand. I wonder if I will ever 
be able to go back to painting again ? ” 

“ There is no reason why you should not amuse 
yourself with that where we are going to-night,” 
said Marie ; “ and moreover it might bring in some 
money.” 

“A good idea. It will take my mind off my 
trouble.” 

“Your paints are in my room at the old house. 
I could easily slip in there and get them, without 
meeting Pere Bouleau ; and, even if I did, what 
could he say to me. That would save you the 
expense of buying any new ones.” 

“ Where is the new residence situated ? ” he 
said. 

“ On the other side of the Seine. The house was 
formerly a convent, but it has fallen partly in 
ruin. Only a few rooms are habitable. The old 
caretaker is deaf and partly blind, so we have 
nothing to fear from him. It is a very poor place, 
very ; but we will try to make it comfortable.” 




218 THE SECBET OF THE MABIONNETTES . 

“ If you are there, I shall not murmur,” he said, 
taking her hand in his. Then they fell to talking 
about their plans and hopes for the future, until the 
shadows lengthened in the room and lights began to 
twinkle in the house tops above the shabby garden. 

“It is time,” she said, rising, “to continue our 
pilgrimage. Fortunately, we have little packing 
to do. The rent was paid for a week in advance, 
so it is unnecessary to see the landlady. We can 
go out as we came in, without being compelled to 
meet anyone.” She took a package out of the 
armoire and laid it on the bed. 

“ Here is your new suit of clothes, or, rather, your 
new old suit,” opening the bundle. 

“ What am I going to be now ? ” he asked, with 
a faint smile, peering over her shoulder. “ Ah, I am 
to take a step upward in life, I am no longer a 
market gardener or a thug ; I am rising in the 
world,” as he saw a black velveteen suit and a 
beret cap laid out before him. 

“ I will take a peep downstairs in the street and 
through the corridor, to see if any blue-coats are 
lurking around,” she said, going to the door. “ Slip 
that suit on, and thrust the old one in the stove, 
That will destroy the old evidence that we have 
lived here,” and she left the room softly. 

After she had gone Roland hastened to change 


THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 219 

his clothes, for he had no mind to he left alone in 
that room ; it was safer to get out of the neighbor- 
hood. In his hurry to button his coat he broke off 
one of the buttons. It would never do to go into 
the street that way, for it was a cold night and he 
had no overcoat. “ I must find a pin or something,” 
he said impatiently, as he hunted here and there on 
the table and the mantel-piece in a flurry of haste. 
“ Where the devil is a pin ! ” 

“ Here,” said a pleasant voice. 

He turned. Inspector Balzare, dressed in his 
sleek suit of black, was smiling at him amiably 
from the doorway. 


220 THE SECBET OF THE MABIONNETTES. 


CHAPTER XII. 

WHEN THE CLOCK STRUCK TWELVE. 

“ The Inspector ! ” gasped Roland. He made a 
dash for a chair, picked it np, and advanced threat- 
eningly towards the police officer. 

Balzare continued to smile in that tantalizing way. 
He did not make any attempt to draw a weapon, 
hut, fixing his piercing eyes steadily on the young 
man’s face, he advanced. 

“ Stand back ! ” cried Roland, swinging the chair 
above his head. 

“ Ah, you wish to offer me "a seat,” said Balzare 
politely ; “ yes, we can talk better if we sit down ; ” 
and reaching out he took the chair out of Roland’s 
unresisting hands. 

“ Be seated, monsieur,” said the Inspector pleas- 
antly, motioning the young man to a place near 
him. “ There is much that I should like to say to 
you that is important, and I have very little time to 
say it in.” 

“Are you going to begin one of those intermi- 


THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 221 


nable interrogations again ? ” said Roland. “ Inform 
me of my name, my age, and the fact that I am not 
married, whether I wear my own teeth or bought 
them second-hand, and whether I sleep on my back 
or with my toes to the south.” 

“ You are pleased to be facetious, monsieur.” 

“ Not at all ; but, if you are going into details, 



He made a dash for a chair, picked it up, and advanced 
threateningly towards the police officer. 


just spare yourself the trouble,” said Roland 
suddenly. “ You have caught me, and there’s an 
end of it.” Nevertheless he sat down, facing the 
Inspector, and bowed his head on his hand. He 





222 THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 

looked so desperate, so pitiable, that Balzare was 
tempted to say : 

“ Come now, young man, you must not lose all 
hopes, just yet. The game is not up. You may 
come through this — this embarrassing affair shall 
I say ? — a sure winner. But you made one great 
mistake which was natural to guilt — you ran away, 
that strengthened the feeling among the police 
that you were guilty.” 

“ But what was there left for me to do ?” stam- 
mered Roland. “ Everyone was against me ; the 
evidence was overwhelming — you knew that your- 
self. I had no friends to help me ; the police had 
long ago settled in their minds that my case was 
hopeless ” 

“ Not at all,” said the Inspector. 

“ How’s that ? ” sharply. 

“ I say you had one friend among them, though, 
perhaps, you did not know it.” 

“ Who, then?” 

“ Myself.” 

“ You ? ” asked Roland, smiling sadly. 

“ Yes ; I wanted to help you, for I believed you 
innocent. I had found, as I believed, a new clue, 
and I was following it up night and day. I was 
thunderstruck when I heard of your escape. It up- 
set all my plans. An escape is an acknowledgment 


THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 223 

of guilt. The investigation I was pursuing was 
closed. You ruined your chances of vindicating 
yourself when you left La Roquette.” 

“ Ah, if you had only given me a little word of 
encouragement,” said the young man, “ I should not 
have attempted it. But I believed my fate was set- 
tled, there seemed to be no loop-hole of escape, 
everyone seemed to be against me — ” then, bitterly, 
“ But how comes it, monsieur, that you, who pre- 
tend to be my friend, are here now to arrest me, 
since you believe me innocent,” and there was 
something of a sneer in his voice. 

“ I will tell you frankly,” said the Inspector un- 
moved, “ that this work was none of my choosing. 
I stumbled into the room by chance, in search of a 
burglar who is wanted. I had no idea that you 
were here, or I should have avoided the place. But, 
now that I am here, I must do my duty.” 

“ And you will take me back to that wretched 
prison again,” cried Roland in a despairing 
voice. 

“ I must — it is my duty.” 

“Yet you believe I am still innocent; and in 
spite of all you will send an innocent man to prison 
again ! ” 

“ I have no choice — it is my duty,” replied the 
policeman firmly. 


™ 


224 THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 

Roland sank back in Ms chair with a sob of de- 
spair. 

“It is useless for me to hope,” he murmured. 
“ I am lost ! ” and he bowed his head on his breast 
and wept. 

The Inspector watched him nervously for several 
minutes, until his tears had subsided, then he said 
in a kindly voice : 

“ My poor friend, you do not, you will not, know 
how painful this duty is to me. But don’t lose all 
courage, we may be able to save you yet. The trial 
will not come off for a month yet, and much may 
happen before that time. I assure you I will do 
all I can to save you. They will take into consid- 
eration your youth and previous life, and you may 
escape through good lawyers, with a light imprison- 
ment. I will do all I can.” 

“All you can, without interfering with your 
duty, I suppose,” said Roland bitterly. 

“ You have said it,” replied the Inspector calmly. 

“Ah, you only tell me this to. soothe me, so that 
I will go quietly back to prison. I know the arts 
employed by the police. Once that I am between 
stone walls again you will forget all about me.” 

“You are unjust,” said the Inspector quietly; 
“ but, considering your position, you are excusable.” 

“ Thank you ! ” 


THE SECRET OF THE MARION NETTES. 225 


“ If you have any doubts of the sincerity of my 
intentions, why did I save you once to-day from 
falling into the hands of the police ? ” 

“You saved me — when?” asked Roland in 
amazement. 

“ Do you remember the writing on the wall ? ” 

“Then you ” 

“ I was the old stranger who appeared so inquisi- 
tive and made you so uneasy,” and the Inspector 
smiled grimly at the young man’s discomfiture. 

“Ah, monsieur!” cried Roland warmly, “for- 
give me for my injustice ! That was the work of a 
true friend. Ah, you saved me once ; can you not 
save me again?” reaching out his hands implor- 
ingly. 

The Inspector was terribly moved: he fidgeted 
in his chair, and moved his face away from those 
panic-stricken eyes. But his emotion only occu- 
pied a moment. Only for a moment did he display 
the man behind the police officer ; he was again the 
stern official. 

“ I must do my duty,” he cried. 

“ Duty,” cried Roland passionately, “ why prate 
of duty — your duty is to your God ; and that duty 
commands you to set the innocent free. Do you 
wish to stain your soul with the sin of having sent 

an innocent man to the scaffold ? ” 

15 


226 THE SECRET OF THE MARION. NETTES. 


But the Inspector had cast off his momentary 
weakness — he was again the stern administrator of 
justice. 

“Take your hat, monsieur, and follow me,” he 
said quietly. 

“Very well,” said Roland, with a gesture of 
despair, as he prepared to go. “Your trial will 
take place at a higher court for this day’s work.” 

The Inspector shrugged his shoulders. 

“ Come ! ” was all he said, throwing open the 
door. 

Then he started back in astonishment. Marie 
was standing in the doorway, with a look of terror 
and amazement on her face. 

“ What does this mean ? ” she stammered, turn- 
ing her eyes wildly from one face to the other. 

“ It means,” said the Inspector bowing, “ that I 
have arrested an escaped prisoner from La Roquette. 
I beg that you will not interfere with me in the 
pursuance of my duty.” 

“ Just a moment,” said Marie. She entered, and 
closed the door behind her, facing the two men. 

When her eyes met those of the Inspector, her 
eyes flashed angrily. 

“ When I met you, last night, monsieur,” she said 
with biting emphasis, “ I believed you were an hon- 
orable man. You promised not to follow me ; that 


THE SECRET OF THE MARION NETTES. 227 

you would respect my secret, whatever it might he; 
you have broken your word; your curiosity was 
stronger than your honest intentions; you are a 
worthy official of the Paris police.” 

The Inspector flushed slightly as she spoke, but 
in other respects he remained entirely unmoved. 

“You are rather severe, mademoiselle, not to say 
unjust. I have not broken faith with you, nor have 
I tried to find out your secret, if this it is. As I 
have explained to this young man, and as I will 
again for your benefit, I happened into this house 
all by chance, in my search for another man. I 
would gladly have avoided making this arrest, but 
now that fate has thrown him into my hands I must 
do my duty.” 

“Duty — always duty!” said > Poland angrily. 
“ He calls it duty, sending an innocent man to meet 
a shameful death.” 

The Inspector paid no attention to his words, but 
continued to address Marie. “I hope I have ex- 
plained to your satisfaction how I came here. Do I 
look like a man who was lying ? ” and he turned his 
keen gray eyes full upon her. 

“ISTo,” she said, after studying him long and 
searchingly, “ you are telling the truth.” 

“ Very well. I accept your tardy justice,” doffing 
his hat ; “ and now,” turning to Roland, “ give me 


228 THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 

your arm, and we will go downstairs; I have a 
carriage in waiting.” 

“ One moment, Inspector Balzare,” said Marie. 
She was standing with her back to the door, her 
hands outstretched, as if to bar their way. “ Did 
you come here alone ? Are you the only one who 
has found us out ? ” 

He looked at her in a puzzled way, and laughed 
softly. 

“Why, are you thinking of making away with 
me ? ” he said. “ It is dangerous, mademoiselle, to 
interfere with a policeman in the discharge of his 
duty. I will oblige you by saying, however, that I 
stumbled in here by chance — that I was prospecting 
on my own account.” 

“ Good,” she replied. “ Then why can this not re- 
main a secret between us three ; no one will be the 
wiser. You believe this young man innocent ; you 
go your way, and we will go ours. If we should 
fall into your hands again we will not murmur. 
Come, be just. Such an opportunity to do an act of 
mercy does not come to everyone in a lifetime.” 

“ What, you would have me — an Inspector of the 
police — connive at a prisoner’s escape. I should be 
playing the part of a traitor to my superiors if I 
harbored such a thought. You have evidently an 
unworthy opinion of Inspector Balzare’s allegiance 


THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 229 

to his chief if yon think him capable of such treason, 
mademoiselle.” 

“ I believe Inspector Balzare is an honest man and 
a just one,” she said firmly ; “ and would not will- 
ingly let an innocent man be legally murdered.” 

“ Thank you for the compliment implied in your 
words, mademoiselle,” he said, bowing stiffly. “ But 
why do you mix up your own name with the pris- 
oner’s, as if you were equally guilty with him? 
The police are not looking for you ; you are not an 
associate in the crime of which he stands accused. 
What is Roland Dane to you ? ” 

“ He is everything — my life to-day, my hope to- 
morrow. Kill him and you will kill me ; ” she was 
talking excitedly now ; a bright spot of red burned 
on either cheek. “ Think of it, monsieur — it is no 
longer a question of one life which you decree shall 
go out, but two, for I swear to you that the hour he 
pays the penalty of another’s crime, that hour I, 
too, will leave the world. Would you condemn the 
daughter of your old friend as well, through your 
own mistaken belief in what you call duty ? Think, 
monsieur ! you are no longer a young man ; you 
have spent your days in the troubled arena of the 
police world, and you probably look forward to an 
honorable retirement, when you can spend the 
remainder of your years in peace. But what peace 


230 THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 

will you find with the haunting memory of one of 
your final acts, when you condemned two innocent 
young people to death? Do you think you will 
enjoy your well-earned rest, with two shadows ever 
at your side, waking or sleeping ? Inspector Balzare, 
by the memory of your mother, be just ; do not 
tarnish your honorable name by condemning the 
innocent to death.” 

She spoke passionately. The Inspector, who had 
been studying her face, was visibly moved. He sat 
down by the table, and bowed his head on his 
breast. 

“ I would to God that I might help you,” he said 
with a sigh, raising his face, “ but you ask too much 
of me. If it were known that I had allowed this 
prisoner to escape I should be forever disgraced in 
the eyes of my government. I could not remain in 
France ; I should be compelled to hide myself in a 
foreign land, where my name is unknown. I do 
believe the prisoner innocent, and I should have 
worked for his release and employed counsel, at my 
own expense, to try and save him. But he belongs 
to the police, and I, as one of its servants, must 
carry out their instructions. Believe me, mademoi- 
selle, that I am not unmoved by your appeal. You 
have put me in a terrible position, for I loved your 
father, and I would do anything to save his 


THE SEC BET OF THE MABIONNETTES. 231 

daughter a moment’s pain ; but I cannot dishonor 
the position I hold. Were the young man my own 
brother, I should act as I intend to do now.” 

“ You talk of dishonor,” she cried almost* angrily. 
“ Is it honorable, is it just, to condemn an innocent 
man, and bring him to a shamefull death, w^hen 
your conscience tells you he is innocent ? ” 

“I must do my duty,” he said firmly. 

“ Duty, indeed ! what is your duty towards man 
compared to your duty towards God? How will 
you answer before the bar at that great day when 
you are called to account for having ruined two 
innocent lives ? Ah, it were better, Inspector Bal- 
zare, that the world mocked at you than that you 
should incur the vengeance of God. What ade- 
quate reward can you receive in life from those who 
claim your allegiance, when you stand guilty of a 
double murder before the highest court of all ? How 
will you comfort your conscience in the days that 
are to come when the blood of the innocent cries 
out against you from every stone in the street? 
Inspector Balzare, in sending this poor boy back to 
prison, you seal your own future. In condemning 
him, you condemn yourself to a living death — to a 
fate twice as miserable as his. He will die with the 
consciousness of his own innocence; but you will 
be left to live on and mourn his fate — a death in 


232 THE SECBET OF THE MABIONNETTES. 

life, more to be feared than the knife of Monsieur 
de Paris, — a hopeless to-day and a hopeless to-mor- 
row. Let him go ; let him go,” she cried ; “ if it is 
God’s will that he should fall into the hands of those 
who are seeking for his life after this, at least your 
conscience will be clear ; you will not carry in your 
heart the eternal reproach that your hand pushed 
him into the unknown gulf; his blood will not 
stain the white garments of your eternity. Ah, if 
you hope for future happiness in this world — in the 
next — set him free ! ” 

She had overrated her strength. During this 
passionate appeal she trembled, and would have 
fallen if the Inspector had not risen and supported 
her. 

As for Roland, he seemed unconscious of what 
was going on around him. He had no hopes tha t 
her words would move this stern, heartless ad- 
ministrator of justice ; but in his heart he was proud 
of her, and his cheeks flushed as he listened. 

“ Pauvre enfant ! ” said the Inspector, bending for 
a moment from his official dignity and stroking 
Marie’s hair with his long white fingers, “ what can • 
I say to comfort you ? Ah, if I were not a policeman, 
if I were not bound to the wheel, how gladly I 
would set your lover free ! ” 


THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 233 

She shook his hand off with a restless gesture. He 
looked at her tenderly and reproachfully. 

“Words — what are empty words?” she said, a 
little disdainfully, “ when you will not act. Do not 
speak to me of honor or duty, monsieur, you do 
not understand their meaning. They have blinded 
your sense of justice, and hardened your heart to 
the cry of mercy. May God deal more justly with 
you than you have dealt by us ! ” and she covered 
her face with her hands, and wept as if her heart 
was broken. 

“Your words have been wasted, Marie,” said 
Roland, rising moodily. “Monsieur the Inspector 
is too much used to the sight of tears and to the 
cries of the unhappy to give heed. Come, monsieur, 
let us put an end to this scene, which I am sure 
irritates you. I am ready to go with you now to 
the Prefecture; my only hope is now in my own 
innocence and the justice of God.” 

“ I will go with you,” said Marie, rising quickly, 
and dashing the tears out of her eyes. 

The Inspector looked at her tear-stained face and 
then at the pale drawn features of the young man. 
A hoarse sound came from his throat. 

“ Come ! ” he said, moving unsteadily towards the 
door. Roland put on his hat. Marie took his hand 
in hers. 


234 THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES, 


At that moment the bell in the distant tower of 
La Roquette pealed out the hour of midnight. As 
the last stroke chimed through the air the Inspector 
started, and a flash of joy lit up his white work- 
worn features. 


“ Do you hear those chimes ? ” he said. “ To-day 
my term of office expires. I can renew it or resign 



With a gesture that was almost majestic, he said again, “Go !” 
at will. I will choose the latter. The policeman 
held you ; the man Balzare lets you go. To-day I 
am free, and you are free. I shall send in my 
resignation now. My children, go your way in 
peace,” and, pointing towards the door with a 
gesture that was almost majestic, he said again, 
“Go!” 





THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES , 235 


CHAPTER XIII. 

THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 

The week that followed was an uneventful one to 
Roland Dane. His new retreat — a room in the 
tower of an old house in the Rue Jacques La Tour 
— was safe from observation. He never again 
ventured into the street, and spent his time com- 
pleting some small paintings which Marie had no 
difficulty in selling to the small dealers in the Rue 
Jakob. The papers had long ago ceased to speak 
of the murder at Montmorency, but the fugitive 
knew only too well that the police had not aban- 
doned the chase. 

For a young man like Dane — who was at heart a 
true Bohemian — this enforced seclusion was a terri- 
ble ordeal. From his window he could only look 
out on a vast expanse of roofs and broken chimney- 
pots, and he sighed for the sight of the glittering 
boulevards, the brilliant cafes, and the multi-colored 
moving crowds. It seemed to him that he had only 
exchanged one prison for another, and even the 










V’ 


236 THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES . 

presence of Marie a few hours a day did not atone 
for the dreary hours he spent alone. 

She was quick to note his restless spirit, and yet 
was unable to suggest a remedy; but one night 
when he had seemed particularly uneasy she said : 

“ My poor friend, I am afraid that this solitude is 
killing you. I think an evening out would cheer 
you up ; and, if we manage things well, no danger 
will come of it.” 

He looked up eagerly from the old paper he was 
reading. 

“ Have you a plan — what is it ? I have begun to 
envy the pigeons on the roof, for they are free, 
while I am buried alive in this lonely room.” 

“ I thought of this,” she said smiling. “ To-night 
there is a carnival at the Paradis Latin. I think, 
if we were to disguise ourselves properly, that no 
one would recognize us. It would be the last place 
in the world that the police would think of looking 
for an escaped prisoner. An evening’s amusement 
would do you good, and the risk would be slight.” 

“ I am willing to incur any danger to escape from 
my prison for a few hours,” he said. “I cannot go 
on living this way, like a caged rat, after the active 
life I have led — no, not even if I have to go back to 
La Roquette and stand trial. There is a chance that 
I might be cleared, but here there is no hope of ever 


THE SECBET OF THE MABIONNETTES. 237 

being free again. We will go,” and lie fell to eagerly 
talking over their plans for the evening. 

That night Marie was to go to P&re Bouleau’s and 
get the things that she had left there when she had 
been turned out of doors. She would be back by 
eleven at least, and that would give them plenty of 
time to reach the Paradis Latin in time for the ball. 

She felt amply repaid for having made the sug- 
gestion of going to the carnival when she saw 
Roland more like his old self again, for, while she 
was getting his supper, he danced and sang and was 
so noisily happy, that several times she was com- 
pelled to warn him that he might be heard from the 
street. 

Before starting out for the Rue des ISToceurs she 
made a visit to a dealer in old clothes in the neighbor- 
hood, and selected a couple of dominoes to be worn 
at the carnival. They were musty and faded, but 
as the Paradis Latin was not frequented by the 
haut monde , they would answer the purpose ad- 
mirably. 

After Marie had departed on her errand to Pere 
Bouleau’s, Roland attired himself in his domino, 
and, lighting all the candles in the room, began to 
dance up and dowii the floor like a madcap school- 
boy. He seemed to have resumed his careless youth 
when he put on the old faded domino. The pros- 




238 THE SECRET OF THE MARION NETTES. 

pects of walking the streets again like other men, 
even if it was only for a few hours, seemed to make 
him dizzy with delight ; to be able to look into the 
lighted shop windows and touch shoulders with the 
passers-by was a glorious anticipation. 

It seemed to him that the hands of the clock that 
he studied so assiduously never would get around 
to eleven. When they had reached that point and 
Marie did not arrive, a hundred doubts and sus- 
picions floated in his brain. He waited a half an 
hour and then, rather than give up the ball, he 
resolved to go alone. He had so set his heart on 
the carnival, that not even the thought of the 
woman he loved could hold him back. He argued 
that if she came later and found one of the dominoes 
gone she would know where he was, and prepare to 
follow him to the Paradis Latin. 

Roland was not one of the perfect heroes that 
usually shine in the pages of a novel. He was 
rather inclined to be selfish, and to prefer his own 
pleasure to that of others, but, withal, a man of 
good parts and many lovable qualities. 

He therefore felt no compunction of conscience 
when he set out alone for the bal masque . 

The Paradis Latin bears the same relation to the 
southern quarters of Paris as the Folies Berg&res does 
to the northern. On week days a vaudeville com- 


THE SECRET OF THE MARION JSfETTES. 239 

pany holds the boards, and it is much frequented 
by students and their lady friends, who buy tickets 
by the season. It is a vast hall decorated in blue 
and gold, with one great gallery and a commodious 
stage ; and when Roland entered the place on the 
night in question it was just beginning to fill up 
with gay masqueraders. 

Although the Latin Quarter of the days of Murger 
exists no more, there are still enough Bohemians 
left on the southern bank of the Seine who know 
howto enjoy life in an unconventional way, and this 
element was out in full force to do honor to the 
carnival. 

It is possible that some of the ladies’ costumes 
were indiscreet in these revelations, and that some 
broad jests were bandied about the theatre, but 
these did not interfere with Roland’s enjoyment, 
who plunged into the merry melee and enjoyed 
himself like a boy out for a holiday. He danced, 
and sang and kicked up his heels like the wildest 
of them all, forgetting for the time being that he 
was a hunted man, wanted for murder by the 
police. 

After he was thoroughly tired out he went down 
into the caf6 to get some refreshments. It com- 
manded a view of the main entrance, and he had 
begun to worry about the non-arrival of Marie. 


240 THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 

When the gar9on appeared Roland ordered a glass 
of wine. 

“ Make that two, garjon,” said a shrill voice at 
his elbow. 

Roland turned and confronted Pere Prideaux. 

The old police officer wore a mocking smile of 
triumph, as he seated himself at the table and 
wiped his glossy bald head with a crimson hand- 
kerchief. 

“Ah, you were not expecting me, I dare say, 
young man,” he said smilingly. “You looked, I 
suppose, for a young lady in tinsel and silk and not 
an old thief-taker like Pere Prideaux. You do not 
seem glad to see me ; but never mind, you will like 
me better when we are well acquainted, which we 
soon shall be.” 

No thought of trying to escape entered Roland’s 
mind, as he sat there staring at this glib-tongued 
old man. 

“ I don’t know why you should think you were 
unwelcome,” he said faintly ; “ I never care to drink 
alone. Why should I fear the police, when I have 
done nothing ? ” 

“ It remains to be seen whether you have done 
nothing,” said P&re Prideaux pleasantly. “We 
shall find out when we have reached the Bureau of 
Police. You will oblige me by following me there 


THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 241 


as soon as we have drunk this wine to our better 
acquaintance.” 

Roland saw that his last hope was gone, that to 
attempt to escape now was out of the question. To 
tell the truth, he was almost glad that it was all 
over ; now at least he would be able to sleep with- 
out fearing to hear every moment the sound of some- 
one on his track. What was such liberty worth ? 
there was more peace in the prison of La Roquette. 

So when P&re Prideaux asked him if he was ready 
to go he obeyed with alacrity, and they went out 
through the main hall together. 

The police officer had a cab in readiness, but just 
as they were going to step into it a woman’s voice 
called out for them to stop. Both men turned. 
Marie was running towards them with excited 
gestures. 

“ What is it?” asked P&re Prideaux, eyeing her 
keenly. “Do you know this young man?” refer- 
ring to Roland with his finger. 

“Yes, monsieur, and it is about him that I wished 
to speak.” 

“You will have to see me about that at the Pre- 
fecture. I have no time to stop,” shortly. 

“ But, monsieur, he is innocent. I assure you, if 
you will only listen.” 


16 






242 THE SEC BET OF THE MABIONNETTES. 

“ Ah, I dare say — they all are. You can explain 
that to the chief,” turning away. 

“ I will not detain you long. Hear me, I beg of 
you, monsieur,” she implored. “ This young man 
is innocent ; I have found the murderer.” 

She said this with such an air of conviction that 
the old thief-taker was moved. As for Roland, he 
could only stare at Marie with dilated eyes, believ- 
ing that it was only a ruse on her part to gain time. 

“ Yes,” said Marie, “ I have found the guilty, and 
I can take you to him. It will not require much 
time, for you have a carriage, and I can soon prove 
to you by the witness of your own eyes that I am 
telling you the truth. If I deceive you, you can 
lock me up with the prisoner here.” 

She spoke so earnestly, so passionately, that Pere 
Prideaux was moved. The old fox had no desire to 
make a mistake that would bring him under the re- 
proof of his superiors ; so, reluctantly, he acceded to 
her request. 

She told the coachman where to drive, and all 
three entered the carriage, which rolled away in the 
direction of the river. 

Roland was curious to put a few questions to 
Marie, but the old policeman sat between them, 
and it was impossible to do so. 

He was doubtful that their trip would lead to 




THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 243 

anything, and yet he felt that she would not hazard 
such an assertion unless there were some grounds 
for it. 

He was not destined to remain long in doubt, for 
very soon the carriage rolled into the old familiar 
Rue de Noeeurs and paused bef ore the lodging-house 
where Roland had spent so many unhappy months. 

They got out of the carriage, and Marie, warning 
them to be silent, led the way up the dark stairs 
that at this late hour were wrapped in silence. 

“Not a word now, or you will ruin everything,” 
she said, cautiously opening the door of Pere Bou- 
leau’s room softly. The two men glided in noise- 
lessly, and they stood motionless in the shadowy 
apartment, from the depths of which a grumbling 
sound could be heard. The room was entirely in 
darkness, except for a square patch of moonlight 
which rested on the old puppet theatre in the cen- 
tre -of the floor. 

As they stood there, P&re Bouleau, still clad in 
his ragged dressing-gown, could be distinguished 
bending over a trunk in the corner, mumbling in- 
coherently to himself. He raised his face, that 
looked like a grotesque mask of silver in the moon- 
light ; every feature seemed to be working convul- 
sively ; in his hand he held two marionnettes. After 
looking cautiously around the room, he disappeared 


244 THE SECRET OF THE MARION NETTES. 

behind his theatre. They listened attentively, and 
then he began a preamble, which was almost unin- 
telligible ; then the curtain rolled up of the dingy 
little theatre. 

The policeman and his companion started, for the 
tiny scene disclosed was the famous room at Mont- 
morency, where the murder of Mr. Carlton had been 
committed. The details were perfect, and the moon- 
light, shining brightly upon it, brought out every 
detail with astonishing distinctness. 

Then a marionnette, dressed in white, entered ; it 
was worked by a hand from beneath instead of a 
string, and began to move up and down the stage 
carrying on a soliloquy unintelligible to the audi- 
tors. 

Suddenly the figure stood still, as if listening. 
The window at the back was pushed open, and a 
man in a blouse entered. 

44 What do you want here ? ” asked the first. 

44 Only to pay an old debt,” replied the other in a 
harsh voice, that was almost a scream. 

44 1 do not know you,” faltered the figure in white. 

44 Have you forgotten so soon ? ” snarled the other, 
drawing nearer. 44 Your name is Carlton — mine 
Bouleau. Oh, I have had a precious time finding 
you. It was well you avoided France. I was to 
marry Elise Verrier, but you induced her, by what 


THE SECBET OF THE MABIONNETTES. 245 

lies I know not, to marry you instead. If I could 
have found you then I would have killed you 
both. It is long since she left you, but now I will 
not keep you apart, you shall go and join her.” 

The voice of P5re Bouleau rose to a strident 
scream, so piercing that the listeners shuddered — 
even Prideaux was moved. It did not seem to 
them that this was only a toy tragedy, performed 
by some wooden marionnettes, but as if they stood 
in the presence of a great crime. The surroundings, 
the savage voice of the old puppet-man, gave every- 
thing a semblance of reality. 

As they watched with straining eyes, one of the 
marionnettes fell upon the other: they struggled 
here and there about the mimic stage, in all the 
convulsions of a real battle to the death. The voice 
of P&re Bouleau was like the snarling of a wild 
beast — “ Go to her, go to her ! ” he screamed. “ She 
calls to you from the dead.” And the white figure 
fell across the steps of the stage in all the quivering 
semblance of death’s agony. 

And still the shrill voice of the old showman 
rose in a storm of sound, while the pigmy mur- 
derer struck again and again at its prostrate an- 
tagonist. 

Then the theatre itself fell over, disclosing Pere 
Bouleau quivering on the floor in convulsions, his 


- ^ ■; ' 



246 THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 


hands beating the boards. P&re Prideaux was the 
first to reach his side. 

“ So it was you, wretch, that committed the crime 
at Montmorency ? ” he cried. 

“ It was justice alone,” said PSre Bouleau, rising 


The theatre itself fell over, disclosing Pkre Bouleau quivering 
on the floor. 


on one elbow and braying the policeman’s looks. 
“ He deserved his fate ! ” 

“And such justice shall be dealt out to you!” 
murmured Prideaux. “ The justice of Mother Guil- 
lotine ! ” 

“ Not yet,” with a smile, “ not yet.” His head 
fell on his breast ; then, with a sigh full of content, 




THE SECRET OF THE MARIONNETTES. 247 

his eyes closed. The old showman had obeyed the 
summons that called him to a higher court ! 

On my way to the races at Anteuil I passed a . 
villa of variegated brick, surrounded by a green 
hedge, and literally covered with flowering vines. 
There was a bench on the south side of the house, 
and there an old man sat and smoked his pipe, 
while a little boy played at his knee. 

From the window a woman, still young and fresh- 
looking, smiled down upon them from her work. 

“ Have you been playing with the little girl next 
door to-day?” asked the old man. 

“Yes, Grandpa Balzare, but we have quarrelled! ” 

“ Indeed ; and what for ? ” 

“ I have been teaching her to play at Guillotine, 
and when I beheaded one of her best dolls she got 
angry and cried and said I was a wicked boy, and 
that it was a wicked game. Was it, grandpa? ” 

The woman in the window turned away. The - 
old man dropped his pipe, which broke on the pave- 
ment. 

“Yes, Eoland!” he said gravely. “The most 
wicked game in the world ! ” 

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